In White Houses
by JannP
Summary: Totally AU Pacey/Joey and inspired by Vanessa Carlton's song of the same name. Joey joins new friends for a summer in Florida after freshman year of college and her life changes forever when she meets Pacey.  Rated M so use caution.
1. Chapter 1

**In White Houses**

It's already been a whole year. Well, it's been a whole school year anyway, which I guess is technically only nine months. Somehow, I thought college would change the perception of a school year, although I'm not sure why. I thought I would feel more grown up, more like part of the group. I'm not sure which group, just any group. I thought I would feel like part of the human race at least, but I don't. I feel exactly the same way I did one year ago today. I feel alone, but not necessarily lonely; not exactly lost, but not exactly like I'm on a fated road, either. It's hard to explain, really. And she doesn't get it. The closest person in the world to me, now several hundred miles away, didn't even get it when I lived under the same roof she did. 

So when I saw the girl from my poetry class putting up a notice for a summer roommate, I decided to do it without hesitation.

"Jen?" I say as she finishes pinning the second sign to the corkboard in the union building.

The petite blonde whirls around, curls bouncing around her face with the movement. Although she stands several inches shorter than me, I can't help feeling intimidated by her. "Hi." She finally says. "It's Joey, right?"

"Right." I say with a smile. We've been paired together on a couple of in-class projects, merely by seated location, and it hasn't been uncomfortable to work together, but it also hasn't necessarily blossomed into friendship. "You're looking for a summer roommate?"

"Yes. Well, I'm not the only one. My parents agreed to let me and my friends use their house in Florida for the summer on the condition that we find two more roomies." She rests her hand on her hips and rolls her eyes. "They get the feeling four is safer than two. They think I can't take care of myself."

"I know what you mean," I say, although I really don't. I've been basically alone since I started college here; my sister didn't have any problem sending me to a strange city with a single room. Well, it isn't that she didn't have a problem with it exactly as much as it is that she didn't question my ability to handle myself.

"Why do you ask? Do you know someone who would be interested?" 

"Umm…" I say, a little thrown by the question for some reason. "Yes."

"Okay." Jen says, taking one of the small removable tags from the bottom of the second flier. "Have her give me a call."

I nod and accept the small piece of paper from her. "Okay, I will."

I stare at the handwriting, or rather the photocopy of handwriting, standing in the hallway until the numbers don't make sense, and I sigh.

In reality, I should ask my sister before I make such a drastic decision anyway. She's expecting me to come home and help out with our family's bed and breakfast. She has a six year old son and could probably use the break from running a 24-hours-a-day business to spend some time with him. And as much as I complain about her, I'm sure she wouldn't mind my company.

I've never done anything impulsive. I've never done anything that could even be considered remotely risky. Part of it is that Bessie was pretty overprotective. She only let me go away to college because she knew for so long that moving away was the change that I craved. We had the trust fund that mom's life insurance money had been put into when she died and Bessie had only used a small part of it on college before she came home to replace a mother to her little sister. Our father was soon squirreled away to prison; it turned out he had been involved in some drug-trafficking scheme, and so he left us alone. After that, it was pretty much just Bessie and I, stuck with my father's debts and a trust fund that was specifically to be used for college-related expenses per the family attorney. Thankfully, the creditors couldn't touch that money, but they took everything else. In the midst of our family ruin, it became obvious that Bessie was the only person in the world I could trust. Those who had been friends were on the other side, spreading rumors and speculating.

So this opportunity, to really get away from all of that, is too tempting. It would be impulsive and daring and it would take me away from people who still judge and whisper. No one here knows about any of that, and that has been a huge relief. But now the opportunity to push it all even further away is just too real and too present and too much for me to pass up. I smile for the first time in a few weeks as I head up to my room to call Bessie. For whatever reason, though, I'm a bundle of nerves as the line connects to my childhood home-turned-B&B in small town suburban Massachusetts.

"Potter Bed and Breakfast, this is Bodie," comes the overly cheerful greeting. Bessie's boyfriend, with whom she shares Alex, came to live with us when we got the B&B up and running. He was at the culinary institute located on site at the college Bessie had chosen, and when she decided to take an elementary cooking class, the rest was history. They bumped into each other in the hallway on a random day and…somehow ended up becoming parents about a year later.

"Hi, Bodie. It's Joey. How are you?"

"Faring pretty well here. How are you?" He asks, but I can hear a guest asking him a question in the background. He must motion something to them, because his attention doesn't wane.

"Good." 

"Ready to come home?" 

I sigh at the expectant tone of his voice. They are planning on coming up to get me together on the 26th, three days after my last final exam and only a week from today. "I was actually calling to speak with Bessie about that."

"Well, let me get her for you, then. We'll see you soon."

"Okay." I say with a smile. "Thanks, Bodie." That feeling in the pit of my stomach has exploded into all-out nervousness. Somehow, in the space of the last five minutes, this has become incredibly important to me.

"Hey, Jo." Bessie says in her sweet, soft way. Usually she's sweet and soft.

"Hey, Bess."

"Bodie said you were calling to discuss coming home? I thought we had it planned."

"Well, we do." I say, resting the phone between my shoulder and ear as I hesitate.

"So what is there to talk about?"

"There's a girl from my poetry class who has invited me to live with her in Florida for the summer."

"I thought you wanted to come home for the summer. You haven't been back since Christmas." The sweetness and softness is immediately gone, replaced by confusion and what sounds vaguely like the beginning of anger. 

"I know I haven't." I say softly, letting the guilt of her simple statement wash over me. "But I really want to go there, too."

Bessie sighs loudly. "How would you pay for this?"

"I haven't thought about it." I admit. "She just asked me today." I don't want to get into the specifics about how I would be going with a group of near strangers and it would be more of a volunteer arrangement than an invitational one.

"But you really want to go, huh?"

"Yeah." I say, feeling the need to explain somewhat. "You know how you didn't move home right away when you first came back from college?"

"That was because mom was gone and dad was furious that I was pregnant and refused to let me back in to be a bad example to you." She clears her throat. "It wasn't the same. If I could've come home, if he would've let me, I would have. And eventually I did."

"Of course I would come home at some point. I just want to go live there for the summer, not forever."

"You were planning on using your earnings from here over the summer to pay for living expenses next year. What would you do for that money?"

I clear my throat. "I haven't really thought about it. I mean, I'm sure I can get a summer job down there."

"So how are you going to pay your way down there?" She asks slowly.

"I still have money left," I admit. I've only used about a third of what I saved before I left for New York so far this year, but I don't really want her to know that. She would be worried if she knew I didn't go out; part of the money was destined for entertainment expenses, after all. 

"You do?" She sounds surprised, and that's what makes me feel even more like she doesn't really know me. If she did, she would know that I haven't been anywhere but the library or my room in a long time; maybe even all school year. 

"Yes."

"I don't like this idea," Bessie says firmly. "I would much rather you come home."

I sigh. I recognize her tone of voice as the one that doesn't barter. This is the voice she uses with Alex when he's done something wrong. "Fine," I say, feeling the sharp stab of disappointment and feeling more like I'm eight than eighteen. "I'll just…I'll talk to you on Sunday, okay?"

"Okay." She says. "And Jo?"

"What?" I respond, sounding more irritated than I intend.

"I know you don't understand, but…I just know what it would be if you went to Florida with these friends and I want to protect you from that. I've been down that road. Look where I ended up."

"Your life isn't that bad." I argue. "Sure Alex was an accident, but you love him and Bodie."

"You're right. But that doesn't mean it was what I had planned. I've given up a lot of plans that I had for myself. You'll have plenty of time to experience new things while you're in college. I just want to make sure you finish school, too."

I sigh, fighting the urge to tell her that I don't care what she's been through and I want my own experiences. "I know."

"All right. I'll talk to you Sunday."

"Okay, bye." I hang up the phone quickly so I don't start a legitimate fight with her. I don't want to be protected anymore. She's become this interesting person because of mistakes she's learned from and accepting the consequences of her actions. I look out the window across the quad, littered with students in various stages of action: walking, studying, talking, laughing…and wonder why I'm sitting here alone in my room with tears in my eyes, letting my older sister dictate the course of my entire life.

I scan the room slowly, really allowing my eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the manufactured lighting inside. It's just a few minutes before the poetry final begins, and while most students are panicking and looking through their notes with dread, praying that the essay question doesn't include this poem or that one from our semester's worth of studying, I'm fighting down that feeling in my stomach again. It's not that I'm shy, exactly, it's just that I generally prefer not to talk to people and I know that's a preference I really need to change. This is the first step in that change. I select the open seat next to the familiar crown of blonde, dipped severely over the spiral-bound notebook set in front of her. I sit down, but don't bother to remove my well-worn notes from the grey backpack I set on the floor.

"Hey, Jen." I say softly, trying to get her attention without disturbing her all at once.

"Oh, hi Joey." She says with an easy grin.

I've thought about this over the four days since I spoke with Bessie. It's all I've thought about. "So, my friend that was looking for somewhere to live over the summer…it was actually me. And I'm interested in going down there with you."

"Oh." Jen says with a smile. "Okay. Great." 

"Are you sure that's okay?" 

"Positive." She says immediately. She rolls her eyes as her cell phone rings. "I swear I turned that off," she scoffs as several students cast dirty looks her way. She digs it out of her bag and answers it as she walks out of the room. 

I look around awkwardly as our professor enters and begins unloading photocopied tests from his own bag. Jen makes it back inside the room just in time, as Dr. Maynes instructs us to get out our blue books and pens and spread out. She smiles at me as she scoots two seats over. I smile back, feeling sure about myself for the first time since I saw her flier.

The essay question is easy for me; the page fills with my handwriting quickly. Poetry is so unlike people for me, which is strange. I've heard it described many ways, including a beautiful woman, because apparently beautiful women are confusing, contradictory and all offer something different. To me, a poem is more like a puzzle. You unravel the arrangement of words, the voice of the speaker, and the shape the words take in your mind to reveal a secret meaning. To me, poetry makes sense. After I finish, I read through the three page essay to double check my facts and make sure I included everything I wanted to include. As I move to stand, Jen grabs my attention and mouths for me to wait for her. I give her a small nod, take my blue book to Dr. Maynes and exit the room. I let my back slide against the cool wall and sit on the ground.

Bessie has been very protective of me since our father was arrested. She won't let me go see him. She won't even tell me what prison they sent him to. She doesn't bother to ask me, so what she doesn't know is that I don't care. I know he was having an affair while our mom was dying, so whatever happened in the aftermath really doesn't matter to me. There is a moment of revelation involved in discovering such things; there's a moment where you see your parents as flawed individuals, rather than some exalted being. That moment happened when I was twelve and I caught my father stumbling in our back door with lipstick all over his neck and collar, reeking of perfume and alcohol. When I smelled the same perfume, several years later, on one of my teachers at school, I asked her what brand it was. The reaction caused by smelling it and recalling how it felt to be twelve, filling a glass of water in the kitchen and watching him come in with that smell on him was the last I've ever had to my father. After that, I put him away, locked firmly in a memory that I don't visit. I've never told Bessie any of that, and she's never asked. She's never asked me why our father didn't look at me at our mother's funeral. It's because, the morning after I caught him and he was sober again, I asked him what was going on. He didn't care enough about me to protect me the way Bessie does. I guess I should be grateful he was honest with me, because he was rarely honest.

I guess it's natural for Bessie to deny me living in Florida now. She's protected me from some horrible things, and she gave me the best home she possibly could. It was a safe place to go, safe from the whispers and giggles and looks of disgust that comprised my adolescence. But I don't need that shelter anymore. I need to come out of my shell so I can learn who I really am. I would like to think that person is capable of having fun and taking care of herself. I would like to think I can walk the line between adulthood and insanity just like other college students.

"Joey!" Jen says brightly, coming out of the classroom. She snaps me out of my train of thought. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing." I say, shrugging it off easily as I push myself up from the floor. "How do you feel about your essay?"

"I feel so happy that I'm finished with poetry. You?" 

I just nod. "Yeah. I feel pretty good about it."

"Good." She says. "So, that phone call was one of my roommates for the summer. Her brother is going to come live with us, too."

"Her brother?" I ask, squinting quickly as we hit the sunshine outside. Jen pulls sunglasses out of her jeans pocket and puts them on, and I can't help thinking that she looks like a movie star.

"Yeah. Hopefully five of us will fit in the house." She says brightly. "Her brother is really great."

"I thought the flier said all girls?"

"It did. Well, Jack's gay anyway."

I smile, feeling myself relax slightly.

"So, when are you finished with finals?"

"I'm finished this afternoon." I say. "I just have one more."

"Oh, good." Jen says. "We were actually planning on leaving the day after tomorrow."

"How is everyone getting there?" I say, realizing that I've stranded myself. There is no way Bessie is going to provide transportation to Florida for me. Especially because I'm not going to tell her until I'm ready to leave. Conveniently just before she and Bodie leave the B&B.

"Andie was going to drive us." Jen said. "She has a car that will fit everyone, and we're just leaving whatever stuff we don't need to take at my parents' house."

"Your parents have two houses?" I say with a sinking feeling.

"Yeah. The one in Florida is really just a beach house. We used it for family vacations about twice a year. They're talking about selling it now, and I thought it would be a shame not to enjoy it without them at least once."

I nod slowly. "Yeah."

"So anyway, you can leave whatever you need in my room at my parents' house. They have plenty of room. My younger sister is staying for summer session at her school, so they have more room than normal."

"Okay. Well, I don't really have that much stuff." I say with a shrug. "And who exactly is going down there?"

"Well, you and me." Jen offers before blowing a stray hair off her forehead. "My roommate from here, Audrey, my friend Andie from back home, and her brother Jack. Andie and Jack are both at NYU, so they can leave from here with us."

"Are you sure it's okay if I come?" I ask. "It seriously sounds like all of you know each other really well, and you're the only one that knows me."

"Well, give it awhile and everyone will get to know you." Jen says, tugging on my sleeve to pull me towards the art building. "Audrey doesn't know Andie or Jack, either."

"If you're sure it's all right…."

"I'm sure. Besides, I know you from poetry. You're probably the only reason I'm going to pass, so thanks for sitting next to me. This is the least I can do to show my gratitude."

I smile slightly. "So do you have a job lined up down there or anything?"

"Not really." Jen says. "My parents made a deal with me that as long as I pass all my classes with better than a C average, I don't have to work through college and they'll pay for everything. That's why I'm so grateful to pass Poetry. Do you need to get a summer job?"

"Umm…I might. It just depends," I say vaguely.

"Well, if you do, I'm sure my mom or dad can set up something for you. They've already set up something for a couple of our friends. One of them lives down there full time because of my dad," she says with a small laugh. She comes to a slow stop outside the art building and begins rummaging through her bag. She comes out with two Tootsie pops. "You want one?"

"Um, sure. Thanks." I say, accepting the orange one. 

"I'm supposed to meet Audrey out here. Do you have anywhere to be?"

"No. Not for two more hours."

"Good! We're going to lunch. You can meet her." Jen says. "If you want, that is. I can't really tell."

I wave it off and pull the sucker out of my mouth. "I'm a little shy." I admit. "I'm trying to get over it."

"Well good. I think Audrey and I will be able to help you with that." She says brightly. She glances at her watch. "Damn, we're early." She casts a look at the building anyway. "So tell me about yourself. I can't believe we worked together in class three times and I don't know anything other than your first name." Jen narrows her eyes. "Is that your real first name?"

"Sort of. I go by Joey, but my name is Josephine." I roll my eyes. "Don't ask me why. My sister got Elizabeth and I got Josephine. Hardly seems fair."

Jen chuckles. "Yeah, I know what you mean. My middle name is Louise. So, you just have one sister?"

"Yeah, she's seven years older than I am, but we're really close. She has a little boy named Alex who's six, and I lived with them since Alex was born." 

"What about your parents?"

"What about them?" I ask, not defensively. I just don't want to get into it.

She nods. "Yeah, I went to live with my grandmother through high school. I understand all about relationships with parents."

I smile and continue enjoying my sucker. The sugar already makes my teeth ache, but for once I just enjoy something, even something as simple as a Tootsie Pop. "So, there's that. I'm from Massachusetts. That's about it. Pretty boring stuff."

"Yeah, me too. I'm originally from here, but my grandmother lives in Connecticut. That's where I met Andie and Jack. You'll really like them." She pauses to take a long pull from her sucker. "What are you studying?"

"I think I'm going to major in English or literature or something like that…I like books." I shrug, trying not to appear too nerdy. "What about you?"

"I have no idea." She says easily. "I'm thinking maybe nursing or something, though. That's what my grandma did and it sounded great. I think my parents are just thinking of college as finishing school, so I'll marry some congressman's son or something when I'm done and that's it. They're trying to pressure me into just doing general studies." 

I raise my eyebrows at her. "They don't want you to get a degree?"

"I think that they think of college as a place to keep me until I'm respectable enough to marry. I had kind of a reputation when they shipped me off to Connecticut. They want that to die down."

"So they send you to Columbia?"

"Yeah." Jen says easily. As easy as it's been for me to be okay with my parental relationship, or lack thereof, I wonder how other people can be okay when their parents fail them. "Oh, here's Audrey."

The blonde coming out of the building and waving at Jen is, if even possible, more buxom and confident than the girl in front of me. I know immediately that I'm out of my league. These are the kind of girls who were cheerleaders and popular and…girls who dated a lot and went to dances and flirted shamelessly and…I sigh. Definitely not like me.

"Audrey, this is Joey. She's in my poetry class, but she volunteered to be our fourth roommate this summer."

"Excellent!" Audrey says, clearly trying to size me up. "How tall are you?"

"Um, I'm 5'9"." I say shyly. Did she just decide to go straight for the insecurity? 

"I'm jealous," Audrey says simply. "I can make it to 5'6" if my shoes are tall enough."

"That's average," I point out.

"God, I'm below average with shoes on!" Jen complains. "That's enough of this subject!"

"Oh, I found the best swimsuit sale!" Audrey says. "I figured I should stock up since we're living at the beach. Do you want to come shopping later on?" 

"Yes! I need a new suit." Jen says. "I lost the bottoms of mine last summer at…well, never mind. Would you like to come, Joey?"

"I should pass," I say simply. "I need to get packing if we're leaving that soon."

Jen nods. "Okay, that's true. You know, Audrey, maybe we should wait and just all go shopping together down there. It'll be less to worry about."

"That's true." Audrey says, contemplating it carefully. "Do you have anymore Tootsie Pops?"

Jen complies and fishes one out of her bag. "Honestly, Audrey. You eat more sugar than anyone else I know."

"Hey, I'm not the one that always has a candy store in their purse."

"What do you like for lunch?" Jen says, turning to me. "We've got pizza, Mexican, or Japanese within walking distance."

"Pizza is good." I say simply. "Is it sad that I don't know what's around here?" 

"Where do you eat?" Audrey asks. 

"I just cook at the dorm. My brother-in-law is a chef. He taught me a few basics."

"So you've lived off grilled cheese sandwiches, soup, and popcorn all year?" 

I laugh easily, surprised to feel it rumbling from my stomach. I haven't laughed that deeply in a long time. "Basically. I also make a mean bowl of cereal."

"Excellent! Those skills will come in handy."

We spend lunch getting to know each other and I begin to feel more at ease around these girls, almost enough to forget what Bessie's reaction will be when I call her tomorrow. As we laugh together, and already begin forming the basis of a friendship, though, I can't help feeling myself break away from her a little, feel myself breaking out of my shell, which is something I desperately need. For the first time I can remember, I'm looking forward to summer more than I look forward to the school year.

"This is the worst game ever invented!" Audrey says loudly. She turns to point to Jack. "And _you_ are the source of evil that started this line of questioning!"

"Well, you're the one who picked truth," Jack logically points out.

"Hey, she isn't the one who picked dare and ended up showing nipple to that elderly couple in the middle of Nowhere, Georgia." Jen protests from the side opposite me in the back. Jack is crammed in between us, while Audrey gets the home stretch advantage of riding in front for the last 100 miles of our drive. I watch between Jack and Audrey as they continue to argue about whether or not she has to answer Jack's question. His questions seem to be directed toward everyone in the car, although they haven't actually forced me to answer any of them.

"Come on, Audrey. Your first time. In bold, graphic, descriptive detail. If you don't somewhat turn me on, given than we are discussing sex, I will be sorely disappointed." Jen says over the commotion. She's just irritated because she already answered the same question, in the same parameters she just listed to Audrey. Really, all I'm left with is more questions.

Jen and Audrey continue to argue it out as Jack turns to me. By now, I'm looking out the window, watching the last ten miles of freeway speed by in a blur.

"And what are you thinking?" He asks softly. Without a doubt, Jack is the first person here I've felt entirely comfortable around. Sure, the girls have all been more than welcoming and it isn't that I'm uncomfortable around them. It's just that Jack makes me feel like opening up, for some reason. There's something about him that seems to understand when I want to talk and when I don't.

I turn to him and smile. "I just can't believe we're almost there already."

"Yeah, Andie drives too fast." Jack says.

"Hey, I heard that!" Andie says, watching him carefully in the rear-view mirror.

"You just drive," he says, pointing emphatically to the windshield. I know that Audrey and Jen are off on some conversational tangent and won't be with us for some time. Jack turns back to me. 

"Are you still afraid to call your sister when we get there?" He asks, shifting in his seat so that he's intimately next to me. Despite the fact that we've been on the road for about sixteen hours, he smells good. He smells of something manly and faint cologne and…just something warm and soft. I meet his fiercely blue eyes and smile a smile that borders on a cringe.

"Yes." I admit. "To say she was upset with my change in plans is an understatement. And even though she told me to call when we get here, I think it might just be so she can get the telephone number, track the address down using it as a reference point and come here to drag me kicking and screaming back to Capeside."

Jack rests a hand on my knee. "You know, I think it'll be okay, though. I'm really glad you came."

I smile more genuinely and rest my hand on his. "Me, too."

"So the girls are going bikini shopping this afternoon?" He asks.

"Yeah, I guess." I say easily. "I really just want to take a nap."

"No!" Audrey says. "No nap! Shop!"

"We can go shopping tomorrow." I point out.

"Or we can go shopping today and to the beach tomorrow."

"I'm for that plan!" Andie says. "I'm all library pale and nasty." 

"See, that's what happens when you spend too much time in the library," Jack adds emphatically. "I spend ten minutes a week to look this good."

"Or just so you don't burn like the baby you are once you get to Florida. Because it's hard to get a man when you're whining about sunburn."

"I don't need a man," Jack says. "After this year, no way. Besides, I have Joey to keep me company."

The collective groan is almost deafening. "No, Jack. We like her. You are not going to commandeer her for the entire summer. She's here to have _fun_ and relax. Not to baby-sit."

He looks to me questioningly and I shrug. 

"Oh, Andie, this is your exit coming up." Jen says. Andie thanks her and Jen continues spouting directions. 

"So, I believe it's someone else's turn to describe their first time." Audrey points out.

"I didn't hear yours!" Jack says.

"That isn't my problem, I told the story. It's too bad you were too busy pretending to be straight to listen," she teases, gesturing over her shoulder to where our hands still rest on my knee.

"Fine!" Andie says. "It's my turn. And I don't mind talking about it, because it was amazing."

Jack coughs to conceal a laugh.

"Shut up!" Andie protests loudly. "It was! It was my boyfriend my junior year of high school. We'd been dating for six months when he pooled all the money he'd made in weeks at his part time job to get us a night at a local bed and breakfast. The room was huge and beautiful, with a four poster bed, a roaring fire, candles, rose petals…the whole package. We went out to a fancy dinner before, so we were all dressed up and feeling so grown up."

"Except…" Jack prompts, leaning forward to hear her quick, quiet admission.

"Except we had just finished midterms and we were both exhausted, so we fell asleep nice and early. We did it the next night, in the backseat of his car, in my parents' driveway."

The shocked rounds of laughter fill the car and I stare out the window again, wondering what it would be like if someone adored someone else enough to go through all that planning and spend all that money for them to have a good time. Wondering what it would be like if that were me.

"So, Joey, you're awfully quiet—" Andie starts in.

Jen cuts her off. "The last house on the right." She says. "The white one."

"Oh, my god!" Audrey says, looking at the beautiful house at the end of the driveway Andie is pulling into. "Look at this place! Are you kidding me?"

"Isn't it great?" Jen says with a thrilled smile.

"It's great." Audrey agrees. "We live here!" She shrieks.

"And we'd be happier if you would get out of the car so that the rest of us could," Jack points out to her. Andie's Saab is a two-door with barely enough room for the three of us in the backseat. Andie and Audrey get out at approximately the same time, and Andie pops the trunk so we can get our suitcases out. They are so stuffed into the truck that getting them out might be a hypothetical at this point.

"Oh, feel that stretch!" Jack says happily as he stretches and yawns. Jen takes advantage of his open posture to punch him in the stomach. "Hey!" He protests as he crumples over.

"I get first dibs on the shower!" Audrey says, running after Jen, who is busy opening the front door with her suitcase at her feet. I'm pretty sure I heard Jen call the first shower somewhere around Washington D.C., but I could be mistaken. 

Jack takes my small suitcase out of the trunk along with his own and closes it as soon as Andie has grabbed her own suitcase. "You'd better hurry if you want to get a shower in before we go shopping."

"Thank you for taking my bag," I begin. "But I think I'm more in the mood for a run than a shower."

"Really?" He says with great interest. "Do you run a lot?"

"I wouldn't say a lot. Just a few miles a day." I say with a shrug. He looks at me like I'm weird.

"What?"

"You don't look like you need it." 

I know I blush a little as he looks my body up and down. I'm not used to being under that kind of scrutiny, especially from a male, even if he would rather be checking out another boy. "I like it. It's relaxing."

"Running is relaxing?"

"Yes." I confirm. Jen points out the two bedrooms. Jen and Jack are taking her parents' room with king size bed. We've already worked out that I don't mind sleeping on the floor, since I was the last one to sign up for a room. I've got the floor in the living room all to myself. Jack sets my suitcase on the couch.

"Are you sure you don't mind sleeping on the floor? You can really have my spot in the bed if you want."

"I'm okay. It'll be good to have my own space anyway," I say, turning to take out my shorts and a tanktop, given that the temperature and humidity are already climbing outside.

"You're seriously going running now?" He asks incredulously. 

"Yes, I'm seriously going running now." I repeat. "Do you mind telling everyone where I went?"

"Do you need company?"

"No." I say easily. "I honestly prefer to go alone."

"You spend a lot of time alone."

I toss my running shoes on the floor. "Pretty much all of it." I say, trying not to sound as though I'm complaining about it.

"Don't worry. That's going to change fast." He says as Andie comes into the room.

"What is?"

"Nothing." He says, turning around. "Joey's going to go for a run. There's plenty of time, right?"

"Yeah, we're in no hurry. And you're going to get us some beer, right?"

"Naturally," he says. They continue discussing this at length as I excuse myself from the room to go change.

I stand in the bathroom, looking at myself carefully in the mirror, wondering what Jack thought of what he saw. I'm probably a little on the thin side, weighing in at 120 pounds, even though I'm tall. I'm too tall, that's for sure. For Jack it isn't a problem, because he's still got a good three inches on me, but around everyone else I feel awkward. I don't have the curves or the chest that Audrey has, and I don't have the gorgeous hair or full lips that Jen has. I haven't figured Andie out. She doesn't seem as self-assured as the other two, although she is also blonde and fairly short, seeming to be one more polar opposite to me in the house.

But I can't let it get me down, right? I'm here to make friends and have a good time. I'm not here to over-analyze myself and think everything to death like I normally do. I pull the black tank-top over my head, covering up as much as it will and noticing how pale my skin is. Maybe some time in the sun will do me good, although Jen already told me that I'll want to run with a sweatshirt if I plan on going early in the morning because the breeze on the water is cold until the sun is all the way up. Maybe I'll have to start going later. It isn't going to matter if I start waking later than my usual six in the morning, right? I'm here to relax. I chant that to myself like a mantra. I'm here to relax.

It isn't relaxing to remember the conversation I had with Bessie. She thought _we_ had decided. She thought _we _were excited for me to come home. She doesn't understand. How do I explain that I'm not happy without making her think I'm miserable? It isn't that I'm miserable with my life, it's that I'm bored. I feel like I'm stagnant. This is my chance to make friends, to do something really out of character. This will be an experience I will talk about forever, I already know that. And talking forever isn't something I've ever done. If I talk for too long, I inevitably stumble onto a painful subject and clam right up again. I'll finally have something to talk about uncensored. I sigh. Bessie cried when I told her I wasn't coming home for the summer. I promised to come home for Labor Day, though, no matter how much homework I have.

I tie my long hair back into a smooth ponytail at the nape of my neck. A few loose pieces fall into my face almost immediately, but I just tuck them behind my ears. It's like my face is different when I'm looking at it for the first time in a mirror, in a bathroom, and a place I've never been. It's like something inside me has already changed. I smile slightly at the thought.

I begin stretching in the living room, looking out the door at the beach. The back door opens to the private pool and hot tub encased in cement, and the fence beyond that opens to the beach. I hear the shower start in a distant part of the house and wonder how far I'll be able to run today before I need to get back. Maybe they'll leave me and go shopping.

"So, Jen says we should be all ready to go in about an hour and a half, minus your shower when you get back. So I was thinking about two hours?" Jack says, coming back into the living room.

"Oh." I say, not realizing that someone was in the room with me. "Okay. I'll be back in about an hour and a half then."

He nods. "Please. I need to go get some beer. But I'm also not supposed to rush you, so…"

"I won't tell." I say with a small smile.

"Good." His face brightens. "Hurry back now."

I jog in place for a minute before I open the sliding door. I turn to close it behind me and see Jack waving me off. I hurry to the beach and go for an easy quarter mile before I ease into a real run. I think about the last year. I was valedictorian of Capeside High School. As I spoke, I looked out over the classmates who had judged and ultimately rejected me, knowing that I would never feel that again. Or at least, if something like that happened again, at least I was numb to it now. There was no way they could ever touch me again. I had risen above their criticism. I would make something of myself and escape the small town. It was the first time that seemed tangible to me, rather than a far-off goal. I almost hopped on a train to New York the next morning, but not having that last summer would've been too hard for Bessie, I think. She complains every so often that the house is too empty, but I finally coaxed her into admitting that she usually didn't notice when I was home anyway because I would hole myself up in my room and read for hours at a time. So I stayed for Bessie, and we made genuine efforts to spend quality time together as a family. We took a trip to the Vineyard, drove up to Canada for a few days. And before I knew it, the summer was over and I was preparing to leave home for New York. I was preparing to strike out on my own. I took the early train to New York, so I was there before lunch. We shipped my things, so all I had for the first day was a small suitcase, the same one sitting on the couch in the house where I was now living. I had packed mostly bedding, and only one change of clothes.

I was slightly disappointed to realize that my room was a single. Of course, I knew that I had "won" the lottery the freshmen were all entered into for the limited number of single dorm rooms, but I didn't realize what that actually meant until I got there. It meant that I was alone. Jack saying I spent a lot of time alone was actually pretty dead on. I didn't join study groups, I didn't get to know anyone in my classes, even the professors, and I pulled straight A's my first semester. I thought Bessie would be proud, and although she did congratulate me and insist that we go out to dinner to celebrate, she furrowed her brow in a brief moment of concern as she looked over the grades I printed from the internet. She told me a few days later that she wasn't sure I was getting everything I could out of my college experience. That was the first time I started to feel lonely at school. I knew Bessie had been right, but I didn't know what to do about it because I've never been comfortable making conversation. Where I come from, as soon as I got the name Joey Potter out of my mouth by way of self-introduction, I had conjured up another snide remark about not realizing I was the daughter of Mike Potter, the notorious criminal and philanderer. At least, that's how it was in that small of a town.

I'm so lost in my train of thought that the volleyball comes about two inches from my nose and lands in the surf to my right. I stop and pick it up. I shield my eyes with my other hand, trying to determine where to throw it when a guy my age jogs up to me. "Sorry about that."

"Here." I say, handing the ball to him. 

"Hey, what's your name? I haven't seen you here before."

I fight the urge to tell him that my heart rate is dropping and I need to keep running. I remember I'm here to meet people, and part of that is introducing myself without excuses. "Joey Potter."

"Hi, Joey." He says. "Pacey Witter." He extends a hand and I shake it.

"Nice to meet you." I said.

"Oh yeah. How nice?"

"Well, it's just an expression." I say, and before I catch myself, I continue. "I wouldn't get too excited about it."

He chuckles. "All right, all right." 

"Hey man, are you coming or what? You got the ball, let's go," a co-player complains.

"One minute, Krudski." Pacey says, blowing him off easily. "So I haven't seen you around. You a visitor?"

"Sort of. I'm staying in a house down the beach for the summer."

"With who? Anyone I know?"

"Well, I suppose I would have to know the people you know to answer that, wouldn't I?" I smile to let him know I'm teasing, although I'm not sure why I'm teasing a total stranger.

He laughs again. "I suppose you would. Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah." I say. "Probably running the same length of beach."

"What time?" He asks, already walking backwards toward the volleyball game on hiatus because he still has the ball.

"Six a.m." I say, jogging backwards. "Have fun."

"You, too." He says so softly that the words barely reach me. I smile as I turn around and begin running the proper direction, and find that I can't quit smiling. I only spoke with him for a minute, but I noticed a tan, firm body, the brightly colored swim trunks standing out easily against his bronzed skin, covered in a mixture of the light colored sand and sweat. His close-cropped dark hair was streaked by the sun with touches of blonde and bronze, and his eyes were more deeply blue than Jack's.

Although I didn't stay to speak with him, I find that I can't get him out of my mind. I make up a life for this person I barely know, feeling something inside me oddly soaring in a way that it hasn't before. I imagine that he's fairly rugged, raised somewhere that isn't here. He's come quite a way to get away from something. I can't imagine that his family is dysfunctional the way mine is; I stopped looking for someone who understood me on that level a long time ago. I'm sure that his family has their quirks, though. Everyone's does. He looked like he was around my age. Maybe he moved down here to go to school, or maybe he moved down here just to get away. I would imagine that he has a big brother, a mirror image of him, because he seemed okay with being teased. By the time I'm making my return trip up the beach, hoping he'll still be there playing volleyball, I've decided that he's a middle child, with a little sister at home who idolizes him and who lets him scope out all her boyfriends. He's going to school to be an architect, but he does most of his studying on the beach because he can't stand being inside for too long. He travels home at every chance, but he loves his life down here. His parents are probably divorced, so he spends a lot of time during his weekends home with his little sister, doing whatever he can to ensure that she's happy even though she's going back and forth between two homes.

I feel mild disappointment when the volleyball team has abandoned the makeshift court, not bothering to remove the net. Maybe that means they'll be here tomorrow, and I smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, this story is about six years old or so. It was initially set in the show-specific timeframe (that will come into play later than this part, and it's still something I'm struggling with a little bit in the sequel). There are a few continuity errors here and there though I've done my best to fix them over time. Let me know if you find any more. This story clocked in around 230 pages in Word when all was said and done, so there is no way at this point that I'm going to catch them all.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and replying. I'm glad there are still a few of us left who enjoy this. **

**Disclaimer: I got sick of these forever ago. I don't own it or much of anything and I never did. I probably never will, either, so if you really wanted to sue me I guess the joke's on you.**

**In White Houses**

_**Chapter 2**_

I shut the sliding door quietly, hoping not to disturb anyone. Despite the fact that we were up entirely too late last night, I had no trouble waking up at six for my daily run. I have a feeling I'm going to need this time from my sanity. It's really great the way they're including me in everything, making me an active participant instead of a bystander, but I'm so used to being alone that I think a little time alone every day will be good for me.

The breeze that was guarded by the high vinyl fence around the concrete backyard hits me as I close the gate and I wrap my sweatshirt around me a little tighter. The sun is just starting to rise, and I'm sure I won't be cold for long. I begin much the same way I did yesterday, hoping against vain hope that maybe I'll catch a glimpse of him again while I'm running. But that's stupid; it's way too early for nearly anyone to be out of the beach. In fact, I only count four other people on the expanse of beach that I cover in my first mile.

I hate to admit that I'm looking forward to school as much as I've enjoyed doing this strange new thing. I have a class on Shakespearean literature slated for nine in the morning on alternating days with my children's literature class. I also have my first real writing class. I was somewhat disappointed that my AP credits didn't transfer enough to prevent me from taking this class, but the counselor said they make everyone take it. Somehow, business writing doesn't seem to apply to me. I already know I'm not going to major in business. Business is a world where you move at the speed of light...I like to sit and think about things. I can imagine myself being in a lab, experimenting and trying to fit together new pieces to develop a new medicine or something like that. Instead, I got to college and the first class I had on Monday morning was Introduction to Linguistics, and I was hooked. I loved it, and I took the next class in the series last semester. In the fall, I have a third linguistics class. Putting words together to explain something seems to be the most fulfilling thing I can think of. I just have trouble doing it if it isn't on paper. 

"So, it's really early in the morning for you to be so lost in thought," Pacey says, jogging up next to me.

I can't fight down the smile and the warm feeling I get as he falls into a comfortable run with me. Not only was he here, it looks like he's coming with me. I feel slightly guilty that I turned down Jack's invitation to run with me yesterday, citing that I like time alone, and then less than twenty four hours later, I'm accepting company. It isn't even just as simple as accepting company, I was hoping for it.

"That's why I run." I say simply. "So I have time to think. That way, I clear my head before the day really begins."

"I know what you mean. It's time to be….oh. Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No, it's okay. I don't mind the company today because you're right. I'm way too lost in thought." I smile over at him. "Do you really get up and run every morning?"

"Yes. Well, maybe not every morning. You can't run with a hangover, but I have to work all week, and part of the weekend, so I'm here most mornings. I start a little earlier most of the time because I have to be to work at seven, though."

"You go to work that early?"

"Yeah. It's easier to work before it gets really hot. I get off around three o'clock in the afternoon."

"What do you do?"

"I work on boats. Well, I work at the marina. I collect rent for the slips, hose the boats down for people when they bring them in. Every so often I get stuck selling the tourist boats for people to take out over the Glades, but usually I'm out on the dock doing maintenance."

"That sounds…well, I'm sure you like it," I say and offer a small smile. It doesn't really sound like fun to me, but being from coastal Massachusetts, I'm not a stranger to professions available around boats. 

"I do. I moved down here when I graduated from high school last spring. My parents keep begging me to come home and go to college but…I don't know. Not yet."

"See, I'm the exact opposite of that. I've been ready to go to college since I was about twelve."

"So why aren't you there?"

"I just finished my freshman year. I'm taking a break."

"Are you taking a break or were you thinking about school?"

I laugh. "Both."

"How can you take a break and think about school at the same time?"

"I've always really looked forward to the beginning of school. But this summer, I only think about it when I run." I watch him carefully with my peripheral vision. "Why? What do you think about when you run?"

"I think about meeting pretty girls." He answers, looking over in time to catch my blush. "I think about all sorts of things." I'm relieved when he turns to face forward and keeps talking rather than tease me. Because I definitely get the impression he wants to tease me, but doesn't think we know each other well enough. Or maybe he's just saving it for later, I can't really tell. "I think about going home and going to school. I think about what I'm going to have for breakfast when I get back home. Sometimes I think about the past, but I try not to do that. It's in the past, right? Why dwell on it?"

"Yeah." I say. "But sometimes it's hard not to."

"Yeah," he echoes. "So why did you blush when I said I think about meeting pretty girls?" He turns to me with an expectant grin before he faces back in front of us.

Damn it. He was just saving it for later. "Because I was trying to figure out if you were paying me a compliment, or what exactly it was that you were doing here with me at the moment." I blush again, realizing that I've just shared more of myself with this stranger than I have with my own roommates. I'm not sure what prompted me to shoot for total honesty, but even though I'm blushing, it felt good.

He smiles, but doesn't look at me. "I was paying you a compliment, and I'm here because…because I felt like it."

"I'm glad you felt like it." I say. I take a sweeping glance of the beach and calculate a rough distance. I would say I've probably run a little more than two miles. "How far do you normally run?"

"I don't know. I just run until the sunrise is over, and then I know that I have to get going if I'm going to make it to work."

The sunrise is over. The sun is shining over the ocean, hovering slightly above it in the sky, covered in a few thin clouds. It's almost as though the sun is taking some extra time to wake up today. "So do you have to go?"

"No, I don't work today. Today is Friday." He says and smiles. "What are you doing today?"

"I haven't really thought about it," I admit. "Right now, I'm just running. I'm sure my roommates won't be up for a few hours yet."

"Well, I _could_ make you breakfast when we're done running then," he says. He looks at my profile. "If you want."

"Okay. Thank you." I say, turning to face him with a smile. We run in companionable silence for a few minutes, and I'm surprised to realize how comfortable I feel with him. I stop for a minute to pull my sweatshirt off and tie it around my waist. I fight down the blush I can feel creeping up my neck, hidden thankfully by the fact that I'm red from the exertion of running as I secure the knot and begin running again. 

"So I have to admit that I conjured up your dossier. At least, what I imagine it would be." Pacey says, sounding a little sheepish about it. "I couldn't stop thinking about you yesterday." 

I smile, glad I'm not the only one. "Please, tell me what you think you know."

"Well," he begins, sizing me up. "My guess would be that you're an only child, who is somewhat estranged from her parents. You were raised mostly by the nanny, somewhat sheltered and now you're dying for some real world experience despite daddy's disapproval. You're quiet and you've already said you like school, so I imagine you spend more time around books than you do people, but that's okay because your high school boyfriend will be back from his stint in the Peace Corps in a few months and you'll be with him then."

I laugh out loud.

"What?" He says. "Was I close? Dead on? Hit a little too close to home?"

"_Not even_." I say, feeling tears as I continue laughing. I finally have to stop running and double over because I'm laughing so hard. Truth be told, I'm feeling a little ridiculous because my scenario must be just as far off.

"Well, correct me then, don't just laugh at me." He says, although he's grinning, too.

I finish my round of giggles and straighten up. I jog in place for a second and begin running again. "Okay, I'll go point by point. First of all, I'm not an only child. I have an older sister. She's seven years older than me, and I've lived with her since I was twelve. We started a bed and breakfast together. My mom died when I was twelve, and my father went to prison, so…that's why my sister raised me. Due to my father's crimes everything our family had was taken away to pay off his debts, other than the trust fund that was my mom's life insurance payout, which is paying my tuition at Columbia. I'm here despite Bessie's disapproval because her "life experience" gave her a son. I _do_ spend more time with books than I do with people, that part was correct. But there is no boyfriend."

"Your mom died and your dad went to _prison_?" He says incredulously. I almost stop and bury myself in the sand when I realize that I actually said all that to him. "I thought I had it bad. That must've been awful."

"Yeah, it wasn't the best series of events," I say dryly. "So I have to admit that I did the same thing about you."

"What? You guessed where I came from?" He says, sounding curious and amused.

"Yeah, and I'm probably just as far off as you are."

"So tell me what you thought up."

"It's kind of embarrassing."

"Hey, trust me, I know." He says with a small laugh. "I just did the same thing. I put myself _way_ out there and you laughed at me."

"Not exactly."

"No, you laughed so hard at me that you had to stop running."

I lick my lips and smile. "You're right."

"You were supposed to deny it again, just for the record."

"I decided that you aren't from here."

"No, I'm from Connecticut." He says. "So I'll go point by point, too."

"Okay." I think back to yesterday's run. "You're either here for school or trying to get away from something. You said you weren't going to school, so…"

"Yeah."

"And you're a middle child. You have an older brother and a younger sister. You and your older brother tease and harass each other constantly and you watch out for your younger sister."

"No," he says. "I'm the youngest of five. I _do_ have an older brother and you did describe our relationship pretty well, but my sisters, all three of them, are older."

"Five kids?" I ask incredulously, wondering what it would be like to have a family that large.

"Yeah," he confirms.

"Wow," I say softly. "I also imagined that your parents were divorced, so you traveled home as often as possible to be with the little sister you said you don't have. That's where I stopped."

"My parents are still married, but they might as well be divorced with the way they carry on. And I haven't been home once since I left."

"Oh."

He swallows hard. "I guess it's only fair, since you told me something about you, that I tell you what I'm running from." 

"If you want to, but I won't make you."

"My father and I, to put it mildly, have a rocky relationship. I've been told several times that I was an accident. Doug was the perfect son, so they didn't need another one. Take your pick, it was a theme the whole time I was growing up. My father is town sheriff, and Doug went to the post academy right out of high school, so when I didn't take the same route, it just brought up more of his disappointment in me. He thought the academy would 'straighten me out'. He's an alcoholic, borderline physically abusive and definitely verbally and emotionally abusive, so…so no, I don't go visit often and I don't call often and I don't look back. I keep in touch with Doug, somewhat, and he's the one who wants me to go to college."

"Wow," I say again. I think that's enough deep confession for one day. I'm starting to feel a little uncomfortable. "So….where are we?" I look around, completely disoriented. I have no idea how far we've run or even where we are.

He stops, too. "We've run about four, four and a half miles together."

"Oh, wow." I say. "I'm not going to be able to run all the way back."

He laughs. "I'm sure you'll be fine." 

"I don't know…that means I'll have run about twelve miles by the time I get back home."

"You aren't going home, remember? I'm making you breakfast."

"Oh yeah."

"If it was that forgettable, we don't have to do it," he says, feigning offense.

"Of course we do," I say, resting my hand on his arm as he turns away in a pretend pout. Something I've never felt tingles up my arm. I want to pull away with surprise, but I don't. I can tell by the way he looks at me over his shoulder, suddenly serious, that he can feel the same thing.

"So, no Peace Corps boyfriend, huh?" He finally says, breaking the intense stare to turn around and head the direction we came from. We don't jog, we just walk. 

"No. Suffice it to say, with the family scandal, I was _persona non grata_ growing up. No one wanted to be friends, much less anything else. And honestly, that's okay. I had a lot to deal with, and I don't know how I would've survived if I had the usual high school trauma, too." I feel a blush start creeping up my neck and reach down to pull my sweatshirt over my head again.

He stills my hand on the knot around my waist. "What?" 

"I just…this is all really strange to me. I can't believe I blurted out all that stuff about my family and…I don't do that. I'm, like, painfully shy most of the time."

"You don't seem shy around me."

"I don't feel shy around you. But sometimes it catches up to me anyway." I finally make eye contact with him and admit to myself that I don't really want him to let go of my hand. Although his touch lingers unnecessarily, he does let go.

"So what are you studying? You said you were at Columbia?"

"Yeah," I say as we start walking again. I fiddle with where my sweatshirt is still tied around my waist. "I don't really know yet. I'm taking a lot of literature and linguistics and stuff like that, though. I think I want to do something with writing, maybe like an author or something."

"That isn't my specialty." He says with a smile. "I always imagined if I went to college, I would want to something with people. Like psychology or something."

"But wanting to go to college is the first step."

"Exactly." He says. "I'm glad you understand that. No one else really seems to."

"Well, I don't think college is for everyone. I don't think you should go just because it's what your family wants you to do. I think it's something you do for yourself."

"You really do think a lot, don't you?"

"Yes. More than I do anything else," I say. "That doesn't mean I'm always right in any way. In fact, being down here probably isn't right."

"You said your sister isn't too pleased about it."

"No," I admit again. "But it's complicated and I don't want to talk about her."

"Okay." He says, holding his hands up. "We can talk about whatever you want."

"Breakfast foods," I say. 

He chuckles. "Well…I've dabbled a little bit in cooking while I've been down here. By that, I mean I've watched the cooking channel a few times. But I can honestly make whatever you want."

"As long as it isn't cereal," I tell him. "I eat that, in general, for more than one meal a day."

"Ah, okay. So we'll put some meat on your bones."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I say, and I sound offended even though I'm not.

"Nothing. It's something my mom always said to me. She thought I was too skinny, she always wanted to put some mean on my bones." He says.

I roll my eyes. "I know. I swear, when I go home, my sister's boyfriend cooks constantly just to reassure himself that I eat. He thinks I've lost weight since I started college."

"Have you?"

I shrug. "Maybe a little. But then, there isn't someone cooking three meals a day for me at the dorms the way there is at home. He worries about my diet being balanced…I don't."

"I'll show you a balanced diet."

"I don't think beer counts."

"Hey, sometimes I get fancy and put orange juice in my vodka." Pacey says, leading me away from the row of beach houses. "That's fruit juice. At least one serving. With the way we drink, it's more like a week's worth at a time."

I smile. "Can I have orange juice, hold the vodka this morning?" 

"Sure. It's a little too early to hit the bottle anyway. Honestly." He rolls his eyes like I was actually asking for alcohol.

"Where are we going?" I ask as we continue heading away from the houses toward the docks.

"I live on my boat." He says. "So I was going to fix you breakfast there…if that's…okay."

"You have a boat?" I ask. Already, this whole scenario is so unlike me. And honestly, when I pictured myself falling for someone, it was someone who was academic like me. I have to fight down a laugh when I imagine Jen saying something about picturing me being with one of my college professors. In some ways, that would be out of character, but in others it isn't a big stretch.

"Yes. I bought it from the hurricane wreckage a few years ago. I refurbished it when my girlfriend and I broke up in high school because…well, let's just say that I was a total mess and I needed something to hide behind for a while."

"I know about that." I say, offering him a small smile.

"Yeah? You've had someone cheat on you, too?"

My face falls and I remember being twelve, standing in the kitchen and realizing exactly where my father had been. "No, I mean I know about hiding behind something for a while." 

"Like books?"

"Like books." I echo. "She cheated on you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I guess that's proof that we were just moving way too fast for being juniors in high school, right?"

"Maybe. But I imagine it was still a really painful way for things to end."

"That it was." He says. "But it's over, and I survived, right? And here we are."

"Here we are." I echo again, my voice getting smaller. Now that the image of my father is firmly in my mind again, I feel myself starting to retreat. Where I've been open and borderline outgoing with Pacey this morning, I can feel myself starting to shut down. As much as I know I should fight it, I don't want to. There are some things that will always be too hard to share.

"Speaking of here we are…" he says, and gestures to the boat moored next to the dock I didn't even realize we were walking on. "Here we are."

"This is your boat?" I say, walking slowly along the dock and looking over the blue hull. The boat is fairly small, maybe just eighteen or so feet long, but I can tell that he cherishes it. It's in beautiful condition, and while it's small, it's anything but humble. "Her name is True Love?" I ask, pointing to the plaque.

"Yeah." He says. "She's my only true love. I've realized that people are probably too fickle to feel that kind of allegiance to one another. It's like they're usually just waiting until something better comes along." 

My breath catches in my throat as I think of my father, sitting in an unknown prison somewhere all alone. I suppose that should be the justice in this situation, but it isn't. It doesn't hurt any less to know that he thought he had something better than my mom. In my naïve, childhood opinion, no one was better than my mom. But any dad would've been better than mine.

"What?"

I swallow hard. "Maybe it isn't about waiting for something better. Maybe it's about not appreciating what you have in front of you."

"That could be." He admits. He puts his hand on my elbow. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I say, shoving the image of my father where he belongs, somewhere in my deepest, darkest memories. But I can't deny that he's left a black cloud hanging over my head. I sigh and follow him down into the living quarters in his boat, and wonder if maybe there are some things that you don't ever really leave behind, despite your best intentions to do so.

"So, we're ready for this party, yes?" Jack says, looking at the beer spread out on the kitchen counter. We weren't able to get a keg, but I think there's enough here to make up for that, looking at the sea of cardboard that was once a kitchen.

"I would say yes, but I'm not the expert." I say, offering a shrug as he looks over at me.

"Okay, I know who to ask, then." He says. I look at him with a question written on my face. "Jen!" He yells, summoning her from her bedroom, where she's changing into her swimsuit. Her new one that is black and stringy and cut perfectly. To say I felt like a boy next to her and Audrey when we went shopping would be a severe understatement.

She comes out, wearing only the swimsuit. "What? I'm getting dressed."

"That's a matter of opinion," Jack offers. "Do you think we've got enough? Because Joey and I can go conjure up more stuff if we need to."

"We only invited this street." Jen says. "This should be plenty. If it isn't, they can damn well bring their own since we're throwing the first party." She turns to me. "And what are you doing offering to go with Jack and get more? You just got back from an extremely extended morning run and…where exactly were you until three o'clock in the afternoon?"

"Joey met a _boy_." Jack teases, looking at me with a grin on his face.

"I'm never telling you anything again." I say flatly, although I wink to take the sting out of my words.

"Does he live on the beach?" Jen asks, putting her hands on her hips. "Because you should invite him if he wasn't already."

"I don't have his phone number."

"You have his name, right?" Jen questions incredulously.

"Yes. It's Pa—"

"We have a problem!" Audrey announces loudly, and we all turn to face her. She enters the room carrying the top of her suit in one hand and the bottom in the other. "I thought these matched. And they totally don't."

Jen laughs. "The bottoms are Andie's. They aren't the ones you bought. How did you end up with those?" She walks towards Audrey and guides her down the hall to go fix the non-problem.

"So you should go find your boy and invite him." Jack says. "Tell him to bring his hot, male, gay friends."

"I haven't seen him with any hot, male, gay friends. There's only one other boy, and judging by the way he was teaching a _girl_ to serve volleyball, he's not gay."

"Well, he should invite them anyway. Was the other guy hot?"

"I didn't really pay atten—"

"Okay, that crisis is averted." Jen says, coming back into the room. "So what is this about Joey-who-never-even-talks meeting a boy?" She leans against the counter and looks at me expectantly.

"I met a boy. And then I talked to him." I say simply.

"Well, good." Jen says. "This is a good place to meet hot guys. In fact, does he have any friends?"

"I haven't met any, but he was playing volleyball with some friends yesterday."

"So he should bring them, too."

"Jack already claimed the guy," I point out.

"Well, at this point, I would settle for a girl or two." Jen says. I raise my eyebrows and Jack drops his jaw. "What? I'm just saying it's been a really long time!"

"Anyway, his friends live like a mile up the street, so I'm sure they're covered. I think he'll be here anyway. I need to go shower." I say, preparing to excuse myself.

"Can I do your hair?"

"Jen, it's a pool party. I don't think my hair is going to matter," I argue.

"If your boy comes, I'm guessing you won't spend much time in the pool."

"I went jogging with him this morning. I was less than glamorous then, I'm sure he can handle whatever I do to my hair myself." I say. "Besides, you have makeup to put on or something, don't you?"

"You're right," Jen says. Jack rolls his eyes as she turns. "I saw that, Jack."

I laugh, looking between the two of them, who are both also laughing. I hurry off to go take my shower. I slept the afternoon and early evening away on Audrey's bed. I felt really bad for the fact that I shut down thinking of my father when I was with Pacey. Even though it's stupid because I don't know for sure if he'll be here, I climb into the shower contemplating exactly how one does one's hair to compliment an unflattering swimsuit. They insisted that I get something, and all three of them promised that the red halter top and boyshorts looked great, but I'm still self conscious about it.

"Joey, people are starting to get here," Andie says, sticking her head into the bathroom as I'm toweling off.

"Okay, I'll be just a minute, I guess," I respond. After she shuts the door, I climb out of the shower and wipe the steam off the mirror. With the way the humidity is outside, I suppose there isn't any sense in drying my hair straight anyway. It'll just go wavy. I might as well let it do what it wants. I sigh and pin the top part up, twisting it randomly and pinning it in place with some of Audrey's hair chopsticks. She left them on the counter, complaining that they don't match her swimsuit, which I suppose is true, but I doubt anyone would notice. They aren't going to get past the curves and the barely-there bikini.

I remove the tags from my swimsuit top and look at it warily. I spent more on this swimsuit than I've spent on a week's worth of groceries the whole time I've been at school. I guess that means I'm obligated to wear it when we throw parties like this. I tie the string that secures it around my middle, making sure to double knot the bow because Jack threatened to untie all of our swimsuits for fun once he was drunk. I also secure the tie around my neck with a double bow, and I put on the boyshorts without thinking about them. Those aren't extremely different from my running shorts, although my running shorts aren't skin tight. The expensive part is the red and white flower printed sarong I purchased because my insecurity finally got the best of me. That way, at least I'll feel somewhat covered. It's long enough that it falls just below my knee, and even though the side is slit all the way up because I have to tie it around my waist, I guess it will do. I don't know what the deal is with red; Jen insisted it's my color, to the point that she bought me red lip gloss to wear with my swimsuit. Although I don't see the point of makeup at a pool party, I put on a light coat of mascara, a little blush and the red lip gloss. I bought a new pair of flip-flops, because my old ones broke in half while I was packing. That's the only thing that makes me feel at home at the moment, is the fact that I have flip-flops to wear. If I were at home, I would be wearing a drastically different outfit, but most likely the same flip-flops. I check my hair to make sure it's beginning to dry okay, which is a matter of opinion, and I exit the bathroom. I know if I hesitate, I would run to Jen and Jack's room and settle in there with a book and just hide until the party was over. But wouldn't that defeat the purpose of being here? My whole purpose was to break out of my shell. And it's only been two days. I'll be damned if I let myself fail _that_ soon. 

"Joey!" Jen immediately summons me to her, where she's surrounded by a group of people. "These are our neighbors!"

I fight the urge to drop my jaw. The three girls are just like Audrey and Jen—buxom, confident and barely dressed. They're beautiful. These are the girls that wouldn't even give me the time of day a year ago, and now…I sleep on the living room floor they're standing on. I live with the popular kids…

"Hi." I say, barely smiling and going over to let Jen introduce me to them. She pulls me around the room with her, introducing me to the people that she knows that are here. She must me as determined to break me out of my shell as I am to do it. She doesn't leave my side for the whole first half hour of the party, despite, I note, the number of her friends that are arriving.

"Here," Jack says, approaching me and handing me a yellow plastic cup as Jen makes a graceful exit to "catch up" with someone who she grew up with. Well, spent summers with down here when she was growing up before she went to Connecticut. That's her sentence, not mine.

I look into the cup skeptically, debating whether or not I want to consume it. It smells…different.

"You've never had beer before, have you?" He asks.

"No. Is it that obvious?" I ask, looking at him anxiously.

"Yeah, it is. But that's okay." He nudges me with his shoulder. "At least give it a try and I won't tease you too much."

I take a deep breath and survey him. "Okay." I don't hesitate for another moment before I take a drink. I promptly cough as I swallow it. "The bubbles tickle." I manage.

"Was it the bubbles or the sour look on your face?" He asks.

"Maybe a little of both," I admit. "You really drink that stuff?"

"Hey, don't worry. It'll most likely be watered down at the parties with kegs. You'll get used to it."

I nod. "Okay."

"Hey!" He says loudly, waving toward the door at a group of people who have just walked into the overpopulated living room via the sliding door. I notice Pacey is with them and feel a genuine smile light my face. I see the smile on him when he notices me as well, and I feel my face flush a little. "Pacey, come here!" Jack says.

I look up at him in surprise. He knows Pacey? That's a strange coincidence. "You know—"

"What's up, man?" Pacey says, engaging in some sort of long-standing ritualistic handshake with Jack. "This is Will, Abby, Cliff, Chris, Matt, and…you know Kate of course." He makes a circle around the group, some of whom I recognize from his volleyball game.

"This is my roommate, Joey," Jack says to the group. I don't know why, but neither Pacey nor I say that we know each other while Jack is there. Jack and Kate soon take off together and the others mix in, leaving Pacey and me standing there together.

"So you know Jack?"

"Yeah, I grew up with Jack, Andie, and Jen. Well, mostly Jack and Andie. Jen came later. You live here?"

"Yeah," I say looking around. "Weird." I shake my head and take another drink of my beer. I know my reaction is more subdued this time, but I still obviously cringe because Pacey laughs.

"Not a beer drinker, huh?"

"Is it that obvious?" I repeat, even though Jack already answered that question with a resounding yes.

"Kind of. Don't worry, though. It gets easier to drink after a while. In a few hours, you won't care."

I smile. "Good."

"So you seemed kind of tired this afternoon. Did you get some sleep?"

I feel instantly ashamed for the way I acted this afternoon. I couldn't get my father out of my head, and I was definitely more distant. "Yeah. I owe you an apology, though."

"For what?"

"Well, I don't know how to explain it. I guess I get a little depressed and distant when I think about my dad."

"So don't think about him," he says simply.

"Deal." I say, offering him my hand. He accepts it and clings on. "Although, for it to technically be a deal, you'd have to offer something in return."

He raises an eyebrow. "I'll have to think about it."

"Okay." I say with a smile.

"Don't tell me _this_ is the guy you were hanging out with," Jen says as she approaches and puts an arm around Pacey.

"Okay, I won't," I say and take another drink of beer. 

"You're getting better at that," Pacey comments to me, and turns to Jen. "It was me. She's an insomniac jogger, too. It was natural that we would meet on the beach."

Jen chuckles and looks at me. "Be careful. He uses those baby blues to his advantage. But he's a good guy." She adds the second sentence in response to his pinching her side. "Best I know."

I look back and forth between them, trying to figure out exactly what's going on. Pacey gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you, Lindley. I'm glad you're the evil spawn using the house this summer."

"I'll bet you are. Be nice to Joey, Pacey. She's a _nice_ girl. And you know…be careful." She says, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Andie's around here somewhere, you should say hello. I must be going, some hot boys just walked in."

"Hey!" Pacey protests.

"Well, they aren't shacking up with my roommate yet. Bye." She says with a small wave and wink.

"We're shacking up now?" I ask him, looking confused.

"Apparently we are." He says with a chuckle. "Shall we walk along the beach?"

"You didn't get enough of that earlier?" I ask and sip at my beer.

"No." He says simply. He surveys the room as he pulls me toward the sliding glass door. "And I don't think anyone will miss us if we leave now."

He heads out behind me, resting his hand on my back as I lead him to the gate in the back. I calculate that it must be about ten o'clock or so now. I'm glad I slept that long, because I would be starting to get tired now if I hadn't.

"So, speaking of subjects not to talk about…just so you know, Andie and I dated." He says as we begin walking away from the house, in the opposite of the direction I normally run.

"Oh." I say. "Was she….?"

"Yes." He confirms. "I mean, I can't tell you why. I have my guesses, but we had a long and complicated history, and she had a lot of problems and…she went away for a summer, and when she came back, she was a total stranger to me. And she told me that she'd been with someone else over the summer." 

"So should I not…I mean, is it a problem that you and I are getting to know each other?"

"I don't see why it should be," he says easily. "At least, it's not for me and I don't really care if it is for her, as mean as that sounds. It's been almost two years since we broke up. I think any awkwardness between she and I is gone. I just thought I should be fair and tell you so you knew." 

"Because she's my roommate." I say, trying to understand. Perhaps part of my problem is that, not having been in any substantial friendships, I don't really understand how they work either.

"No, because I like hanging out with you, first of all. Being her roommate is secondary. And she may freak out, but she'll get over it. Andie is a little sensitive where I'm concerned sometimes, and I think it's because she knows what happens to me when I get hurt. I think it's protective more than anything."

"Oh, okay." I say, even though I don't really understand. "So I should disregard what she says on the subject of you."

"Exactly," he confirms and I smile, knowing that I got something right. "So, the red works for you." He says, scanning my body. 

"Don't do that!" I say, pushing him slightly away from me.

"Then don't dress like that," he says simply, his voice warm and close to me. He takes my hand. "You look amazing tonight."

"Thanks. The red, uh, works for you, too. I guess." I say, looking at him to indicate I know it was a strange thing to say. He's wearing a bright red shirt and black board shorts with red and orange flames drawn around his knees. It looks like we coordinated our outfits, which would be ridiculous.

We walk in comfortable silence, holding hands, for a long stretch of beach. I turn back and notice the house, which was obviously the scene of a party before and is now just a light in the distance and shiver lightly, remembering that it's still only late April on the beach in Florida. I probably should've brought a jacket if we're going to be out so far away from the crushed mass of bodies overheating my house.

"So, you're going to think I'm a jerk if I say this." Pacey says suddenly, the nervous edge to his voice jumping me out of my thoughts. I turn and smile politely at him as he continues. "I can't explain what is going on here, but I seriously just want to spend every free minute I have with you, getting to know you. From the second I first saw you, I knew I wanted to know you. Does that make any sense?"

"You're not a jerk. Yes, it makes sense."

"Good." He says, seeming to relax a little. "I just…after what Jen said…I didn't want you to think I do this all the time. I really don't. And it all sounds like some lame line I would use to get you into bed."

I chuckle. "Kind of. Or at least, what I would imagine someone would say if they were trying to get me into bed." I roll my eyes. "I will warn you flat out, though, I have a lot of issues, and I'm trying to get over them, but…if sex is what you're in for, it's going to be a while. And it might not happen at all. I just…I don't know."

He lets out a breath. "That takes a lot of pressure off, you saying that. Thank you for being honest with me."

"I'm not trying to totally shut you down. I think you're sweet, and I've had a really good time, it's just…well, in case you hadn't figured, I'm not the most experienced person." I look over at him to gauge his reaction. "So let's just go with this, if that's what you want. Because I sure as hell don't know what I'm feeling."

He smiles. "Let's just go with it. So it would be okay to hang out all night tonight at this…party." He looks around. "I guess we're not really at the party anymore anyway." He chuckles.

"No, we're not. I'm okay with that."

"Me, too." He says. "And we can go running tomorrow morning?"

"Umm…let's see how late the party goes. We may have to go running tomorrow afternoon." 

He laughs. "Okay."

"Okay." I say, letting his laugh send something electric, warm, and powerful through me. It's a surge of pure happiness, I realize. I've only known what that's like briefly. I want more of it. It's like now that I've tasted it, I'm going to crave it.

He sighs. "We should probably get back, though. I'm going to catch hell if I don't introduce you to the people I came with. They've been bugging me for hours about who the girl was that was on my boat all morning." We turn around, still holding hands. I finish off my beer in a big gulp before I speak.

"I know what you mean, trust me. I think everyone was surprised that I wasn't home when they got up." I say with a little giggle. I can't help it, even though I feel like an idiot. "Jen keeps calling me Joey-who-never-talks."

"You keep saying you're shy, but I haven't seen proof of that yet." He says. "I'm going to demand proof at some point if you keep saying it."

"Well, see, I'm trying not to be," I look over at him, his face awash in moonlight. He is so handsome…I wish I were more confident so I could just…never mind. It's better to get to know someone, right? To actually make a friend when you have the opportunity rather than to ruin it by going too fast? He looks over at me, catches me looking at him, and smiles. We come to a mutual stop and he turns to look at me. He raises his hand to my mouth and traces my lower lip with his finger. The look he's giving me is so intense I can't look away.

Maybe it's the moonlight, or the soft lull of the sea lapping in and out just a few feet away. Maybe it's him, or maybe it's me. I'm not really sure why, but as his eyes slip closed and he moves closer to me, I don't feel nervous despite the fact that this will be my first kiss. I know it's going to happen well in advance, or what feels like it's well in advance, and not only do I allow it, I _want_ it to happen. It's that same happiness that I've both felt and craved since I met him.

I close my eyes as his lips meet mine, soft and warm. My lips stick to his slightly from the lip gloss as he opens his mouth slightly to allow his tongue out to brush across my bottom lip. His hand firmly cups my jaw, tangling a little in my hair as his other arm snakes around my bare back to pull me closer in the embrace. I sink into him, following his lead. I cross my arms behind his head and thread my hands through his short hair. So this is kissing. This is why everyone enjoys it so much.

I could never figure that out, objectively. Spit, teeth, tongues…it sounds kind of disgusting to be honest. But subjectively, I don't want to stop. He pulls away from the kiss only enough to rest his forehead against mine. I don't open my eyes, but I know that his are closed as well as I continue playing with his hair. "You…it…tastes like strawberry." He finally says, his voice thick with something I don't recognize, but something I love.

"It's the lip gloss." I say, smiling.

"It's you." He finally says. "You taste good."

I rest my hands on his wrists, pulling away from the embrace a little more even though his hands are both on my face. I open my eyes slowly. "Do you want to go back to the party?"

"I'm still enjoying the last thing I wanted to do," he says simply. I smile and take his hand.

"Let's walk."

"Okay." He complies easily, and we walk at a much slower pace back up the beach.

"So, was that okay?" He finally asks. "I can't tell. Usually when I kiss someone, there's a smile or a slap that lets me know."

I smile and look over at him. "It was amazing, but let's not talk about it. Let's just…go with it." I don't want to tell him that I can't talk about it. I don't know if I would even have the words.

"Just go with it." He confirms. "Okay, but can we go with it again in, say, five minutes?"

I laugh at him, release his hand, and push him away. "Maybe if you're good." I narrow my eyes. 

"Oh, so _that's_ how you're going to be." Pacey says. "That's good to know."

"Hey, there you are!" Audrey says as Pacey holds the gate open for me and I enter. She's standing just next to the gate by the hot tub, talking to someone actually in the hot tub. "I haven't seen you all night!"

Pacey approaches behind me and fits himself directly behind me so that my back rests against him. He puts his hands on my waist and I turn my head in his direction so he can hear me introduce Audrey.

"I've heard all about you," Audrey says, eyeing us with confusion. "Well, maybe not all of it."

"I hope you haven't heard all of it. There are some very specific things that Jen will be punished for if she's shared." He says with humor in his voice.

"I'm sure I haven't heard any of those things," Audrey says quickly, still looking at us in confusion. "I'm sorry, Joey. I…I just didn't know you were…I'm so confused." 

"We all are, don't worry," Jack says, resting a hand on Audrey's waist and taking a swig from his bottle of beer. "It looks like our little Joey growed up. In two days."

"I doubt it was just in the last two days," Pacey says. He plays dangerously with the tie on my skirt.

"You're flirting with disaster there," I threaten in a low growl. He chuckles in my ear, his warm breath dancing over the sensitive flesh, making the hair stand on end and causing me to shiver.

"What are you going to do about it?" He says teasingly.

"Pacey, leave the girl alone for one second. Good God!" Jen says, joining us. "She doesn't even have a drink. And you owe me a dance. Sorry," she apologizes insincerely, reaching out to pull him inside. He shoots me a longing glance. I wonder if he knows that everything he's thinking is written, plain as day, all over his face. 

"So, Joey! You're the first one of us to hook up with a summer fling. How does it feel?" Jack asks, mimicking a cheesy announcer and holding his hand in front of me like it's a microphone.

I laugh and shake my head. I lean over as though I'm speaking into a microphone. "Uh, good."

"And see what amazing verbiage we get out of her once she's had a little to drink. Get the girl another beverage!" He says to Audrey as she comes outside holding up the second bottle she's carrying with a look on her face that clearly says _Duh, what do you think I was doing?_ I laugh at both of them, both faces already flushed from the alcohol, dancing, and the surprising number of people that fit into the house.

I take a courtesy sip of the beer and lean over to peek inside the house, where I can see Pacey and Jen dancing somewhere in the middle of the crowd of other dancers. Her arms are in the air and he's leaning down to hear something she's saying. I watch curiously for a while, wondering if I could do with my body what she's doing with hers. Probably not. I can feel the confidence from his kiss starting to wear off a little until he looks up and sees me watching, and his face lights up. He gives me a small wave and I smile back at him.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks for reading. The thanks doubles if you reply. Also, I'm not sure if I've said it anywhere but this is totally AU. I took it upon myself to use characters and their personal information as I saw fit. _

**In White Houses**

Pacey looks over at me, smiling softly. "Tired?"

"Yeah." I say, fighting another yawn. "Are you?"

"I am today. That was a longer run than normal for me, too."

I look over at him with a smile as he takes my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Andie noticing this for the first time. Pacey doesn't seem to care, but I do notice her stiffen visibly in the circle we've formed. Jen comes dancing into the room with drinks for everyone from the late-arriving beer supply. Everyone but this small circle has left the party. It's probably almost time for Pacey and I to go running again. The last time I checked, it was nearly 4:00 in the morning, and that was a while ago.

Jen begins introducing spin the bottle to us as she passes the drinks around the circle. I decline, and I'm surprised when Pacey does the same. I frown slightly. I hope he's not declining because of me, but I can't imagine that he would. We've been drinking steadily all night. "So, who's up for a little early adolescent fun?"

Everyone in the circle, the core group of roommates plus about eight boys, are up for it. I think that we're all drunk enough we would be up for anything, but we're not drunk enough to do something we would regret. I think. I guess we'll find out.

"Oh, I almost forgot, we're playing Jen's rules." Jen says brightly as she reaches out to spin the empty bottle of Sam Adams in front of her. "The first spin that you land on someone is regular rules, you know, the ten seconds and all that. The second spin, you kiss for thirty seconds and tongue is optional. The third time you land on someone, you spend seven minutes in heaven." She points to the closet next to the hallway. "Because we don't want to watch that." The group seems to agree, but like I said, they would be up for anything. I'm not so sure this is a good idea. Jen's spin lands on Pacey, and they laugh and exchange a casual kiss, like a million others I'm sure they exchanged growing up. Pacey's spin lands on me. He turns toward me with a smile. I smile back at him, but inside I'm hesitating a little bit. Our first kiss was only a few hours ago, but many, many beers ago. I guess if he doesn't care, I don't care, right?

He fingers the tie on my skirt as he kisses me again. This kiss is a little more relaxed than the first kiss, all intense and exciting. This one is more fluid and easy going, maybe because he knows I'll be accepting. There isn't that question hanging over us anymore. We know what it's like to kiss each other. 

"All right, all right." Jen says. "Break it up, you two. That was more than ten seconds." I turn to spin the bottle as I blush furiously. I feel Pacey's hand rest on my back, and we earn a collective laugh when the bottle lands on him again.

"I guess I should've said no repeats!" Jen says, laughing. Audrey seconds that with a giggle. 

I smile at him and shrug. He shrugs back, and we kiss again for the second time in as many minutes.

"You know, I'm actually really, really tired." Andie says, interrupting our kiss, which is okay with me for sure. She bids everyone a good night and heads down the hall to her room. Pacey seems okay with it. It's kind of weird kissing in front of a whole group of people, especially considering I'm not that comfortable with kissing anyway. Don't get me wrong, Pacey has already set me at ease with it, but I don't know that I would want to kiss someone else at the moment anyway. Various people mumble their agreement with Andie, and over Jen's protests, the group starts to disband.

"Come on," Jen says. "That was the shortest game of spin the bottle _ever_."

"Yes, but this party wasn't the shortest party ever…it's almost seven in the morning," Jack says. "I think we should go to bed. I'll kiss you if you want."

"It's no fun if you're gay!" She whines as he coaxes her away and people wave their goodbyes to her. To say that Jen is the life of the party is a severe understatement. I don't think she's slowed down at all the entire night. Audrey starts gathering empties and half empties from around the room, clearly not tired yet. She disappeared for a while, though. I'm not sure where she went, but I'm pretty sure it involved her room and a summer fling of her own. 

Pacey looks to me expectantly. "Do you want me to go so you can sleep?"

I give him a smile that I'm sure is less than bright. I'm really tired, and I know it's visible. "I don't want you to go," I say, but the statement is punctuated by a yawn.

He laughs. "Okay, then I'll tell you what. Do you guys have extra blankets?"

"A few, I think."

"Go grab extra blankets and meet me outside. I'm going to go talk to Andie for just a second." I scowl in confusion at him, because he swore he didn't care what she thought.

"Okay."

"I just don't want her to be an issue with us, you know? I think what she and I went through was a really, really long time ago."

I nod. "You're right. Maybe you should go talk to her."

"Okay." He says and leans in to kiss my cheek. "I'll be just a minute."

I watch him go before I go procure the items I need from Jen and Jack's room. Jack is too distracted trying to get her into bed to notice me. We stored my things in their room for the evening, since the party was in my room. I take pajamas and my comforter. I know there are a few blankets in the hall closet, but I stop in the bathroom to do the one thing I've wanted to do all night: change out of the stupid red swimsuit. I'm much more at home in my pajamas. I look down at the faded print on my pants, red and pink hearts and I smile. Bessie gave me these pants for Valentines Day when I complained that I would never have a Valentine of my own. That's when I was 14, and at the time, they were huge on me. They were way too long, at least. I sigh and wonder to myself if she'll ever understand why I'm doing this. I pull the red tanktop over my head and hurry out of the bathroom carrying my blankets. 

Pacey is sitting on the couch in the living room, looking as though he's about ready to drop dead. If he really gets up early every morning, I can't imagine he stays out late partying every night. Especially because the time of morning has now overlapped with the time he would have to be at work.

"How did it go?" I ask as I enter the room. He's on his feet immediately, taking blankets from my hands. 

"Fine," he says simply. "She at least admitted that she was a little upset, but I'm sure she'll be fine. It's way past time for her to get over it and realize that I'm going to move on, so she should do the same."

I nod, not really understanding the complex workings of relationships. "So what are we doing here?" I ask, gesturing to the blankets.

"Oh," he says with a chuckle. "You're following me. Come on." He takes my hand and leads me outside, and out the gate on to the beach. He spreads two of the smaller blankets out on the sand and sits down. He reaches for me, and I smile as I sit next to him.

"It's really cold out here." I say, shivering involuntarily.

"Well, that's why you have me," he says and he spreads my comforter out on top of us. We snuggle down into the blankets and lay facing each other.

"You changed your clothes," he says.

"Well, you didn't expect me to wear that forever, did you?"

"No," he concedes. "But I would've been okay with it."

I smile and snuggle a little closer to him. "You're not doing a very good job protecting me from the cold," I complain softly as I shiver again.

He wraps his arm around me and brings me closer, so that we're pressed together for the full length of our bodies. "Better?"

"Better," I say. I move closer to him and rest my mouth on his, wanting to feel that pure happiness again. It's not that it was missing when we played the game, but it wasn't the same as being here, alone, with him. Somehow the euphoria was dampened by the presence of everyone else in the room. He closes his eyes and seems to warm to the idea, giving me soft little kisses for so long I lose track of time.

"Are you sure this is okay?" He pulls away to whisper.

"It's more than okay," I promise. He looks over my face slowly, and finally reaches up to touch my hair, which I pulled out of the chopsticks a while ago. It's dried in wild waves around my face and down my back, just like I knew it would.

"Is this what it does on its own?"

"Yeah," I say. "I used to hate it when I was little."

"It's amazing." He says, and smiles before he kisses me again. I'm not sure how long we kiss before we fall asleep there, tangled under my comforter in the sand. 

My eyes open slowly and I take in the sight of Pacey, sleeping soundly next to me. I smile easily. I've only been here for two days. It seems like this is happening so fast. I can recognize that it is. I know that Bessie and Bodie knew each other for several months before they were really dating. Bessie says that they ran into each other and 'the rest was history', but really the history was long and detailed. So why can't I resist him now?

Maybe it's because it's my first taste of affection. No one knows what they're doing the first time around, and maybe it's just all heightened because I'm here and I haven't even had the chance to think that through yet. His lips are parted softly, allowing thin breaths to escape.

What is the exact definition of "too fast", though? Is it when one or neither party is mutually ready for something to happen? Is it a standard timeframe whereby two strangers meet, get to know each other and fall in love?

And while we're at it, what exactly is falling in love? Would I know if I was? Is this something I'm going to look back on and wonder about, because I let someone get away? Or is this something I'm going to look back on and regret? I feel a familiar feeling beginning to gnaw at me, a feeling that I've been dictated by for a good portion of my life: fear.

Fear is something ugly and dark, sometimes twisted and haunting, which is the only good reason I have for not doing a lot of things I otherwise could have. Bessie once told me that fear is a good indicator that one shouldn't do something, but I'm beginning to think I disagree with her. Being governed by fear has kept me from being an interesting person. Being governed by fear up until this point has made me nothing but constantly afraid, second-guessing, and overly cautious. I can't handle it anymore.

I'm determined to experience something, to experience _him_ without over-thinking it, even though that's what I'm doing at this exact moment in time. I let out a deep breath and look at him, really _look_. How do I feel about this, about him? Just on the surface, without allowing the fear to creep in?

I feel happy. That kind of happy that is dizzy and fast and exciting. Like there's something mysterious, secrets to unlock, but at the same time, like he's an open book. I wait on the edge of my seat for everything he reveals to me, but it's like something I've read a hundred times. There's something vaguely familiar about him.

Reluctantly, I stop myself. I need to stop thinking it to death. It's only been two days, and I doubt it's entirely possible to completely figure things out. We still barely know each other, regardless of the hum that pulses through me every time we touch. No matter what, I just need to spend time with him. Time is my friend here, not necessarily my enemy. We have a little more than three and a half months here to figure everything out and to just exist, without thinking or analyzing.

The heat under this blanket is overwhelming. I can feel the sun already beating down on us and the humidity building. I sigh and take in the image of him sleeping peacefully for one more moment before I reach up and touch his face softly. "Hey," I say simply.

His arms tighten on me and I smile before I kiss his cheek. "Come on, it's time to wake up."

"No," he says, sounding sleepy and petulant all at once.

"Pacey," I chide gently. "It's too warm under this blanket."

He drags his eyes open with a charming, quiet smile. "It must just be you."

"No, it isn't. It's the temperature outside. It's rising."

"Hey, Joey! The phone is for you!" Jack yells, his voice getting progressively closer. He pulls the blanket off of us suddenly. We both wince in the bright sunlight. "Maybe I should tell your sister you're otherwise engaged?"

"Maybe you shouldn't," I say, reaching out for the phone. He pulls the antenna out and places the white cordless phone in my hand.

"Hello?"

"Joey? Did I hear you're otherwise engaged?"

"I just fell asleep outside." I say, leaving out the fact that I fell asleep _with_ _a boy_. My insides do a happy little jump as I sit up. I want to shout at her that I'm with a boy.

"You're out in the sun at this hour? You're going to get burned."

"I swear, I'm okay." I say and look to Pacey, still struggling with the shock of awakening. I roll my eyes and mouth my apology to him.

I hear Bessie sigh on the other end of the line. "Jo, I called to just beg you one more time…please stop this insanity and come home."

"Bess, I really think this is something important."

"And coming home isn't important?"

"It's not that. You know it isn't," I argue. My eyes slip closed and I feel Pacey sitting up next to me. 

"Then what is it?"

"I can't always depend on you." I'm trying not to be defensive or angry with her, but her voice is getting more intense with each sentence, each question.

"I don't understand."

I swallow hard. "You don't have to understand. This whole thing isn't about you. It isn't an effort to hurt you, either. It's just something that I have to do."

"No, you don't. It would be very easy to undo."

"Bessie, I'm not coming home," I say firmly. 

The silence on the other end is nearly deafening, the white noise carrying through the phone saying more than anything else. When she finally speaks, her voice is deadly calm and totally even. "If you don't come home now, you won't be welcome here again."

"Why?"

"You made a commitment, Joey. I was depending on your help this summer, and you just abandoned me at the first chance you got. I thought that we were a family, but I guess I was wrong, because you don't just abandon your family, unless you're our father. But apparently you have more of him in you than I thought, because you got up and went at the first opportunity."

"I didn't…it wasn't like that. I didn't abandon you." I leave out the part about how much it hurts that she brought up our father. For all of my expertise with fear, she just played on the biggest one because she's angry. I'm not just afraid that I'm going to turn into him, I'm afraid that I'm anything like a person who could destroy his family, his two little girls, so ruthlessly and so carelessly. I feel tears in my eyes.

"Yes, that's exactly how it was and exactly what you did," Bessie says harshly. "I guess its better that Alex is too young to feel real disappointment, because trust me, Joey…I'm disappointed enough in you for all of us."

"God! I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry that your uptight, repressed, lonely sister is trying to have a little bit of fun! I'm sorry that you aren't included in it! Is that the real problem here?"

"No, the real problem is that you had committed to come home and help your family and you, instead, chose to go thousands of miles away and frolic on the beach while we're here slaving away to provide you with a college education."

"Then you know what? Don't." I say sharply. Tears are running down my cheeks one by one, but I know from experience that they're just getting started.

"Fine." Bessie says. "Like I said, find somewhere else to go when you need a family."

With that, she hangs up suddenly. I don't process it until I hear a clicking in my ear, at which time I pull the phone away and stare at it in disbelief.

"What was _that_?" Pacey asks softly, resting a hand against my back in support.

I laugh dryly and wipe tears off my cheeks with the palms of my hands. "That was my sister." After I say the words, it occurs to me to be embarrassed because I'm crying unabashedly. I look over at him and see nothing but what I would interpret as concern on his face, and maybe a little confusion. He's just trying to understand. The trouble is I don't understand myself.

"What did she say?" He asks after a prolonged silence, reaching over to wipe the tears I missed from my damp cheeks.

I sniffle and look at him, feeling swollen and pathetic, and very much like taking a long, hot bath. I close my eyes. "Could I…would it be okay if I just went inside by myself for a little while?"

He looks sad. That's the only word to describe it. "Yeah," he says softly. "I guess I'll just see you later, then."

I nod. "Okay."

"I had a good time last night," he says, his voice a little rough.

"Me, too. I'll call you." I say sincerely, watching as he gets up to walk up the beach. I watch him for a long time, as he becomes smaller and smaller in the distance. He turns to look back at me two times in that distance. I gather up the blankets we've been laying on and go inside. It's only as I settle the phone into it's charger on the kitchen counter that I realize I don't have his phone number. I sigh and toss the blankets on the couch, not being exactly gentle with them. I walk through Jen and Jack's bedroom, where Jen is still deeply asleep, and into the master bathroom, where it's been promised we can take a bath whenever we want. I shut the door behind me, not worried at all about waking her. The bedroom and bathroom are large enough that I won't be loud enough to fill it. Besides, if the phone and Jack getting out of bed can't disturb her, I think I'll be fine. 

A bottle of scented bubble bath sits on the edge of the garden-style tub. I pick it up curiously to study while the water fills the tub. I turn the water on and adjust the temperature as necessary, and check out the bubble bath. It's Victoria's Secret Strawberries and Champagne, and here's another thing I don't understand: the appeal of those two items together. Maybe I am too naïve, but I don't understand how the combination would even taste good, let alone be something you would want to smell like. But I need a bubble bath so desperately at the moment that I'll take it rather than rummage through cabinets for anything else. I pour a somewhat liberal amount of gel into the water, and undress slowly, taking the time to turn over that conversation with Bessie in my mind.

Most kids lash out when bad things happen. If they don't do it right away, they lash out in some fashion over the course of their adolescence. Some turn to drugs or drink too much, some turn to sex, others act out with violence, commit petty crimes, or drop out of school. Of course, the term 'bad things' is extremely vague, but I would consider your mother dying a bad thing that most kids don't have the emotional constitution to deal with. I would consider sitting through your 'loving' father's trial because that's what the 'family' expects of you even if you don't support him or a single action of his because you think he's guilty, a 'bad thing.' I never acted out. My grades never suffered. I never skipped class; I never lashed out or yelled at anyone. I took it almost passively, accepted what came, and cried myself to sleep because my sister was too busy trying to reassemble our life after it fell apart. I never wanted to be a burden or give her anything to worry about.

So why is it now that I'm old enough to be considered an adult on some levels that she's denying me the blessing to make my own decisions? The thing is, I have a partial scholarship, and it may not be the worst thing that ever happened to me to take out student loans. She and I talked about this at length when I got accepted to a college with a large price tag. A large non-resident price tag to make matters worse. We talked about putting mom's money toward Alex's education. I offered to give it all up so that her son could have a future, too. And she told me that I deserved it, that I deserved to have at least one break in my life. So why don't I deserve a break now? I mean, granted, this is a different kind of break than she was talking about. This is a vacation, where she meant some sort of good fortune. But maybe this is how I finally lash out and what I use to finally deal with everything I've been through. Maybe running away isn't necessarily pretending it didn't happen. Maybe running away is what eventually had to happen for me to really face it, figure out what it means to me as an individual, and to finally, for the love of God, _move on._ Maybe she has a hard time with that because she hasn't moved on yet.

"Taking a bath?" Jack says, peeking his head into the bathroom. Because of the way the shower and tub combination are arranged, I can't see him, but I know that's what he's doing.

"Yeah." I say. "You can come in if you want."

"Good. I wanted to talk to you." He comes around the corner and studies my face. I sink a little further into the warm water.

"What about?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Pacey, perhaps."

"See, the way you zero in on a subject tells me you aren't as casual about it as you're acting."

"Maybe I just feel strangely protective toward you."

I shake my head. "No. Don't be. There are plenty of people who are so eager to protect me that they…never mind."

"No, tell me what happened with your sister, if that's what you'd rather talk about."

I take a deep breath and lick my lips. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Not even to me? I thought you said we were bonding on the drive down here?"

"That may be true, but I still don't know you very well and I would have to explain a lot of things that I don't want to talk about to get to this other thing that I don't want to talk about."

"At some point, you have to let someone in or you're going to explode," he says simply, taking a seat on the edge of the tub.

"No, I won't. I promise I'm going to be fine." I say and close my eyes, letting the warm water relax me.

"So fine that you're sitting here in a bathtub full of bubbles when you could be doing, oh, I don't know, _anything_ less depressing?"

I laugh. "I prefer to think of it as relaxing."

"Your sister sounded angry," he says pointedly.

"She is angry."

"Are you always this good at deflecting personal questions?"

"You tell me how the first thing you said was a question and then I'll answer you."

He narrows his eyes and I laugh. "Seriously, Joey. What's going on?"

"She wants me to go home," I admit in a small voice. "When I told her no, she said that I'd made a commitment and that I was being selfish, basically. She told me not to come home ever again."

He nods sympathetically, and his face takes on a whimsical, slightly amused expression. "Yeah, who doesn't remember the first time they were disowned? That was the best. I remember it like it was yesterday."

"Shut up." I say, flicking bubbles of warning towards him.

"No, seriously. She'll get over this. She's just shocked that you made this choice. And maybe you were being uncharacteristically selfish, but everyone is allowed to do that once in a while. As long as you're happy with your choice, that's what matters. The rest of it can be sorted out."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. Because moving to Florida cannot be the worst thing in history that someone has done. Hell, I've done worse than that. You should've seen what happened when I came out. God, that was one fight I didn't think would ever end. But eventually, my dad realized that I was still the same son he'd always disliked, so why should that change?"

"I'm sure your dad doesn't hate you."

"That's only because you haven't met him," Jack says. "And speaking of people who know my dad, what's the deal with you and Pacey?"

"Is there a deal? And that wasn't the best segue."

"I know it wasn't," he admits, and hangs his head in slight shame. "There's no deal? Because Andie cornered me and chattered to me about there being a deal at some length last night."

"Andie's just sensitive because they went out."

"No, she's just sensitive because she still loves him."

"So you think I shouldn't get to know him," I say in confusion. "What if I like talking to him and I like hanging out with him?"

"Don't get me wrong. Pacey is one of the best people I know. He's a total smart ass and he can be a slacker, but really, he means well. And I know as well as the next girl how hot he is, but be careful. Don't go too fast with him."

"What's too fast?"

"Spending a night on the beach together after two days. You have a whole summer to get to know each other. Just do that."

"Well, just remember, I've only known you a little longer than that, and technically I'm naked right now. I think maybe _we're_ moving too fast, Jack." I say with a straight face.

"Oh, great. Pacey's already rubbing off on you."

"Or maybe I'm exhibiting symptoms of having an actual personality of my own."

Jack laughs and shakes his head at me, and although it wasn't the most in-depth conversation, there's something refreshing about how straight-forward he was with me. There's something that takes the sting out of Bessie's words, and something that gives me hope that we may work it all out after all.

Is it bad that I bailed on my roommates last night to go to bed early? I was asleep before nine o'clock while they were all out at a club. My early conversation with Bessie yesterday, for some reason, wore me out. I didn't have the desire to go be someone I'm not for the evening. I didn't have the desire to go be someone I'm becoming for the evening. I just wanted to be alone, wrapped up in a warm blanket, in the laziest clothes possible, and in bed before nine o'clock.

But that was yesterday and this is today. I know it's a little stupid that I woke up forty-five minutes early, because I know Pacey will have to work and I was hoping to catch him on his morning run. I felt a little stupid about abandoning him yesterday until Audrey made a very valid point: everyone is allowed to have a day of wallowing to him or herself every so often. She encouraged me to take the time to catch up to where I really am and figure out what I'm really doing here. That line of thought made me more resolute than ever to resolve things with Bessie and to stay here through the summer.

Again, though, that was yesterday. After that, I really want to see him. I want to feel that stupid, giddy high that's been missing for a day.

How does it happen in two days? How do you go from not knowing someone at all to wanting to be near them all the time? I don't know. I'm no expert on these matters, that's for sure. 

I start in a slow jog, making my way up the beach and trying not to shiver at the cool breeze coming off the water. I sigh and glance out over the ocean. The sky this morning is thick with clouds. Although the sky is beginning to lighten, it isn't quite sunrise yet. It will be before I'm finished running, though.

The beach is all but completely deserted, leaving me to my thoughts. Right now, they're a jumble of Bessie, Pacey, and Jack. Was Jack right? Am I going too quickly with things now that I'm here? Should I hold off on things with Pacey so that I can resolve things with my sister, or could I handle both? I guess we'll find out. I always thought I was made of some pretty tough stuff, but I could be wrong. It hasn't ever been something I was eager to test. Maybe I should test it; maybe I should get to know myself a little better.

Maybe that's been the biggest part of doing all this, me taking the opportunity to figure out who I am in the equation. Maybe that's the most important thing down here, taking the time to explore my own personality and build on traits that have always been there but have gone untapped.

"I thought you were going to call me." Pacey says, pulling me out of my thoughts as he walks toward the shoreline. I drop into a quick walk so he can walk with me and I smile instantly. Somehow, I knew he would be here.

"I was, but I realized I didn't have your phone number. And I knew you would be here, so…"

"So you got up early to meet me." He finishes softly.

"Yeah," I say, offering him a smile. "How was your day yesterday?"

"It was okay," he admits with a shrug. "I slept most of the day."

"Me, too," I agree. "I'm sorry I didn't call. It was only after you left that I realized I didn't have your phone number."

"That's okay. You know you _can_ come to the boat whenever you want, right?" 

I laugh a little at the hopeful tone of his voice. "Yeah. Okay." I look over at him, lit only by the combination of starlight and the faint break of day. "So, you're working all day, huh?"

"Yeah," he says and clears his throat. "I imagine I'll be done by three, though."

"Well, you know where to find me."

"Getting yelled at by your sister?" He asks pointedly, looking over at me with a raised eyebrow.

I sigh. "She just doesn't understand. She told me not to come back home ever again."

"See, so maybe you should just listen to her. You could stay here forever." His voice nearly cracks with…hope? Excitement? I'm not sure what it is.

"I can't do that. I have to go back to school for starters. And I don't think she _really_ wants to disown me. I think I just need to find a way to put this in perspective for her to fix things. I can't just give up on her."

"I'll help you if I can. I sort of came down here when my dad disowned me, so…I'm not the expert on repairing those kinds of relationships."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say with a frown.

"Yeah…well, don't be. Things have worked out a lot better this way. I get to date all the hot tourists I want over the summers, and it's warm enough to work through the winter. Not that it isn't warm enough in Connecticut, mind you. According to my dad, ten degrees below is just as good of a time to go outside and work as any. Especially since I'll only ever be good for manual labor."

"What do you want to do? What kinds of things do _you_ like?" I ask pointedly, not wanting to hear any more bitter rambling about our dysfunctional families.

"I suppose that's part of the problem. I don't really know what I like to do. I worked at a video store through high school, which is obviously not somewhere I would pursue a career. The only thing I can think of is that I restored my boat by myself and I was successful enough that it floats."

"It more than floats, Pacey. It's a nice boat." 

"Thank you." He says proudly. "I love being out on the water…and I love my boat. That's about all I can think of. That's what is so great about being down here. I get to enjoy both of those things year round."

"So maybe you should look at something in boat restoration or boat building."

"Maybe I should." He says. "But there's a lot of drafting and blueprinting involved in boat building. I don't really want to go to school to learn all of that." 

"I'm sure if you really focused, an associate's degree or something could get you the education you need to do that without being in school too long." I look over at him and smile. "But maybe I should shut up and leave the pursuit of higher education to myself."

"Yeah, you're probably already planning on going to graduate school."

I laugh. I've got brochures packed away from my room that are about graduate programs all over the country. I haven't even told Bessie that New York isn't far enough away for me yet. She doesn't know that I want to go to graduate school anywhere else. "At least."

"What do you mean _at least_? Is there even a higher degree you can get?" I look at him in shock and he bursts out laughing. "I'm _kidding_!" After his laughter dies down a little, he speaks softly. "I think it's great that you know you want to do something like that, though."

"Yeah, I just don't know what I want to study. You at least have that narrowed down."

He shrugs modestly. "So, I want to propose something for tonight."

"Okay…" I say, watching him with confusion.

"I think we should go out on a date." 

"A date?" I say. I roll my eyes. "I wouldn't know what to wear."

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," he teases. "Can you be ready at six?"

"Sure. Six is good."

"Okay. Dress up, too."

I look at him, slightly confused. "Okay."

We jog on in silence for a while, enjoying the quiet company while we delve into our own thoughts, but Pacey breaks that soon enough by slowing to a stop.

"What?" I say, slowing right next to him.

He sighs. "I have to get to work."

I look around and notice that we are at the same juncture where we met earlier. It's strange how I lose track of time and my surroundings with him. "Oh." I say, trying to hide my disappointment even though I know it's evident.

"Yeah," he says, sounding just as disappointed. He kicks at the sand with the toe of his sneaker. I pull my sweatshirt a little more tightly around me. It looks like it's going to rain today, the clouds hanging grey and ominous in the sky against the sunrise. He looks up at me, offers a small smile, and then kisses me goodbye.

I watch him go, for the second time in two days, and smile. He puts his hands in his pockets to guard them against the cold wind as he walks at a quick pace away from me. Oddly, even though I'm stopped, I can feel my heart rate increasing.

I walk back to Jen's house, hoping my heartbeat will die down, but as I think about going on a date with him, it doesn't.

I mean, not to sound like the completely pathetic loser that I am, but this is my first date. I wondered for a long time, even watching Bessie and Bodie, what it would be like. How would it feel to stress out about what you were going to wear, and to do your makeup until it was the perfect amount of 'kiss me' without getting somewhere around 'maul me', and to fix your hair three different ways before the doorbell rang and you gave up. And to go to the door and be greeted by someone who was excited to see you, and you were excited to see them, and to gush over how fabulous you both look for a moment before you head out the door to dinner or a movie or dancing or whatever your plans were.

Perhaps I've had too long to raise my expectations on this one. Perhaps they are a wee bit high, right? 

I open the gate slowly, and close it equally slowly, not wanting to disturb any of the late-partying roommates who are still asleep. I'm surprised, however, to see Andie sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in front of her, staring out the window into the backyard.

"Hey," I say, my voice betraying my surprise.

"Hey." She says, giving me a tight-lipped smile back. "I just made some coffee if you want some."

"Thanks," I say, moving over to the cupboards to immediately retrieve an empty mug. I pour the coffee slowly, enjoying the smell of freshly-brewed coffee as it wafts to my nose. I love that smell. I would sit in the kitchen for hours with Bessie on the weekends, after my morning run, and just smell the coffee as she drank it and we talked and laughed.

And instantly, I'm reminded of how strained my relationship with her is right now, and I frown slightly. 

"So why aren't you still asleep with the partygoers?" I ask, settling into the chair across from her.

"I couldn't sleep," she admits, resting both hands around her mug. "I haven't been able to sleep much since we came here."

I frown more deeply. "Why is that?"

"I guess this is the part where I admit that there's this boy…" she offers an empty shrug. "But I don't know that I should admit it to anyone."

"Is he someone you met here, or…"

"No, he's someone I've known for a long time." She lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I guess for you to really understand, I would have to start way back there and tell you about when I met him." Although I have the sinking feeling that she's talking about Pacey, I nod at her in encouragement to continue. "My family moved to Connecticut shortly after…well, there was this tragic accident. My older brother, Tim, was at the beginning of his sophomore year at Brown, which was like a dream come true for my dad. It was my dad's alma mater. So we went up there, the whole family, for the Homecoming game at the end of September. It wasn't too far from our house, really, just an hour and a half, so we weren't planning on staying up there that night. My dad got a little out of hand with some of his buddies, and my mom ended up driving home that night after the football game. Tim was coming home for the weekend because he was dating a girl who was a senior in high school. They had been dating since his senior year, and he would come home at least once a month to see her. Anyway, my mom was driving and I don't know what happened…I mean, we were all asleep in the back, Tim, Jack, and I. My dad thinks that my mom fell asleep when we were driving. We drifted across the median into oncoming traffic, and another car hit us head on." I gasp my surprise, but she's so lost in her memory that she doesn't notice. She only pauses to sip her coffee. "We were all hurt, in varying degrees of severity. My dad had a bump on the head and a broken ankle. Jack dislocated his shoulder and broke his arm, in addition to some internal injuries. I had mostly bumps and bruises, and a pretty severe concussion. My mom had a few broken bones, a concussion…but my brother Tim had the most severe injuries. He died a few days later in the hospital, never having woken up again.

"To say my mom lost it would be a severe understatement. In addition to her physical problems, she literally went crazy. See, Tim was her pride and joy. Really, he was all of ours. He was the ideal older brother. I looked up to him, wanted to date someone like him, and Jack wanted to _be _him. My dad had placed all of his hopes for the family business on Tim, and Tim was happy to take it all over when he was through with college. He had planned on asking Meredith to marry him when she graduated from high school the following summer. My mom, almost rightly so, blamed herself for all of it being taken away. They had taken Jack into surgery immediately, and mom asked to see his scars all the time. She would just touch him and start crying. Sometimes it was for Jack, sometimes it was for me….really, his scars and the fact that Tim was dead were the only reminders of the accident.

"So we moved to Connecticut the summer after it happened, to put her nearer to a psychologist that came highly recommended. My dad's sister is a psychologist, and recommended this specific person because of her grief counseling, so we moved. It seemed like something my mom really needed. That whole school year, she had completely withdrawn from our family, especially after Meredith committed suicide. She would sit in her room and just cry for days at a time, until my dad forced her to eat. It was really awful. Because of all the time he was putting in at home, my dad's business folded and he decided it would be good for all of us to make a fresh start." Andie looks up at me, and I'm surprised to see that her eyes are completely dry. She smiles thinly and continues. "So, that's where I was when I got to Connecticut. I suppose I was desperate for anyone to really connect with, I don't know. But there he was, with Jen, at the Back to School stomp they had the week after we moved in the summer before my junior year. Jen and Jack hit it off famously, so I was kind of the tagalong friend and embarrassing little sister from that night on. Somewhere, somehow…we were dating and it was serious. But despite how amazing he was, and how happy I was with him, everything else was crashing down around me. For so long, it seemed like my whole family had been trying to deal with my mom so that we wouldn't have to deal with everything in our individual ways. I started to have major anxiety attacks, severe nightmares, and even…hallucinations. By the end of my junior year, my dad had me institutionalized."

"Oh, my God!" I say in shock. The words sort of slip out and she smiles at me.

"I know, right? Could anyone be more screwed up?" She takes another drink of coffee. "Well, it got worse from there. While I was at Mayfield, I met a guy who had been through something eerily similar, so we bonded over our collective problems. I don't know how it happened, exactly, but the bond I had with him in the clinic somehow overshadowed everything. By the time they were ready to release me towards the end of that summer, just in time for my senior year, he and I were secretly dating. He had a girlfriend, I had a boyfriend and it was just…messy. Obviously, I couldn't withhold this information when I got back home and my boyfriend and I broke up." She sighs. "Even though it's been two years, I can't stop thinking about him and wondering what it would be like if I had been a little bit stronger of a person."

"You…you're talking about Pacey," I say quietly, although I guess I've known it since she went to bed early the other night.

"Yeah."

"Do you…do you not want me to see him?" I ask in confusion, wondering why she's telling me all of this.

She sighs again. "It's not that. I just want him to be happy, whether that's with me or with someone else. I mean, I guess we don't really know, right? We don't know what the future holds."

"No," I concede. I study her carefully as I sip my coffee. Why is she telling me all of this?

"Did anyone ever tell the two of you how freaking loud you are?" Jen says, padding into the kitchen with her eyes still closed. She reaches her hands out blindly. "Coffee!"

Andie and I look at each other, confused, and I move to get Jen a cup of coffee. I hand it to her and she sighs happily, sinking into one of the available chairs.

"Why in God's name are you both up this early?" She asks, managing to pull her eyes open after a few swallows.

"Running." I say, and Andie mumbles something unintelligible. I watch her carefully as I make my next revelation to Jen. "But I have a good reason for you to have gotten up early. A reward, if you will."

"Oh, really? What's that?" Jen says, turning towards me. It's more like a slump than an actual turn.

"I have a date tonight."

"Shopping!" Jen gasps. "I'm sure _you_ don't have anything to wear!"

"Exactly." I say. Andie slumps over a little into her cup, but doesn't say anything. I watch her curiously, wondering what it would be like to have been through all of that, but not feeling particularly sympathetic. 

Jen smiles brightly. "This makes it worth getting up at an evil hour. I'll rally the troops and we can go!"

"Well, don't rally them just yet. I get first dibs on the shower," I say.

"Oh, okay, Miss Center of Attention." Jen teases. "Go take your shower then, and be quick about it. The mall opens in…" she glances at the clock. "Oh, it's only an hour. That's not so early to get up, I guess."

I laugh and roll my eyes at her. "I'll even let you do my makeup."

"No, no. Audrey's on makeup. I'm on hair." She grins evilly. "And I know just what to do to drive Pacey crazy."

"Naked would be a good start," Andie pipes up. "The less clothes the better."

I look over at her in complete shock. "What?"

"I'm telling you, show a little skin. Even just a little and it'll drive him crazy. He has a wild imagination…just feed the fire a little bit."

"Are you giving me…?" My mouth is open as I stare at her. Jen is so busy planning it that she doesn't notice Andie offering me advice on dating her ex-boyfriend. In fact, Jen is already on her feet, mobilizing to gather 'the troops'.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks to those reading, replying and following. It's good to see that the fandom isn't quite dead yet. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. _

**In White Houses**

I look at Jen in the mirror's reflection as she tries her third attempt at doing my hair. "I'm going to be late," I protest.

"Trust me, he can wait. That's the first rule of dating, and one that I'm not the slightest bit surprised you don't know," she says with a chuckle. "I think we're just going super straight," she musses to herself as she continues playing with my hair.

"I don't know anything about this stuff."

"Well, the first rule is that the guy can always wait. But he should never make you wait."

"What's the second rule?"

"Only put out if he takes you somewhere with the whole menu in French."

I laugh and roll my eyes. "Somehow, I doubt that's going to be the case."

"With Pacey, you never know," Jen says simply.

"What was it like growing up with Pacey?"

She sighs softly. "Pacey is the best. He has kind of a self-persecution thing going on, but he doesn't have any reason to. He's made his fair share of mistakes, but haven't we all?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean that he beats himself up for things that he's had no control over. Take Andie for example," she says, stopping for a moment to glance over and make sure the bathroom door is closed. "What happened between them was not his fault. There are a lot of things that end a relationship that are a 50/50 split of both parties. But being cheated on isn't always one of those things. I honestly think that he and Andie would still be together if that hadn't happened, but he couldn't forgive her. One of the things about Pacey is that he is loyal, almost to a fault, and he just couldn't understand why someone would hurt him that way. A lot of people have the capacity to play it off as a moment of weakness or something else, but Pacey literally could not understand it. I don't think he can to this day. I think he needs someone as loyal to him as he is to them to be in a lasting relationship." She clears her throat. "I think this is the best I can do with your hair."

"All that work for you to just leave it down?" I say, looking at her in puzzlement.

"Well, who am I to mess with beauty?" She asks, smoothing her hands over my hair.

"Please," I scoff, bowing my head as I blush a little. "I'm going to get dressed now."

"Okay." She says. She exits the bathroom timely, and I reach for the bag. I bought a pair of black dress pants and a dark purple tank top that is gathered on the top and trimmed with lace. I figured that could fit into Andie's description of showing a little skin, right? It fits my chest just right, according to Jen, while showing off my slender frame, whatever that means. Audrey chose shades of purple for my makeup to complement the tank top and I wonder just what I'm going to do about dating when I don't have an entire system to mobilize on my behalf when it's time to get ready. I sigh and slip into the tank top. It's the first shirt I've ever owned that's too revealing for a bra. We'll see how that goes, right? The pants are a little more relaxed of a fit than I was imagining, but by the time I purchased them, we were already running late to get home and 'get ready'. Apparently, it also takes upwards of two hours to get ready for a date, and that's after the shopping is done. I had no idea…they had me picking clothes, scents, jewelry, and what seemed like a hundred other things. 

Suddenly, it becomes clear to me why I've never fit in with these girls before. It's because I'm not like them. I don't spend hours on hair and makeup. I don't prance around in front of other girls and ask them what they think of my shirt. I don't giggle and gossip and engage in girl time like that. I've always thought that getting ready for something entailed a shower and making sure your clothes were clean. I slip on the black sling sandals they encouraged me to buy in order to 'dress me up', and reflect on the toenails that Audrey insist I paint. I shake my head and sigh.

As I exit the bathroom, I hear chatter in the living room, and I deduce from the vibration of male voice that Pacey and Jack are talking with the girls. I wonder how long Pacey has been here, visiting with his friends. I instantly feel guilty for taking up all of his spare time the last few days when he would probably rather enjoy the company of the friends he's known his whole life. I twist my hands around each other behind my back and appear in the living room, lit from outside by the sun, which is dimming gradually.

"Hey," Pacey says, the word strangely strung out as it gets stuck in his throat. He swallows as he surveys me.

"Hi." I say, bowing my head against his visual caresses. I bite my lip as he moves closer to me. I can feel all the eyes in the room. A quick sweep tells me that Jack, Jen, and Audrey are all here, adding fury to the blush of self-awareness that creeps acutely across my features.

"Should we go?" He asks, reaching around me to take my hand out from behind my back. Somehow, the gesture sets me slightly at ease and I smile up at him.

"Yeah. Going would be good." We both bid quiet farewells to my roommates as we make our way out into the driveway, where a truck I've never seen before sits. 

"You have a truck?" I ask, out loud, immediately aware of how idiotic I sounded.

He chuckles. "I have a truck," he echoes, and as he reaches around me to open my door, I notice for the first time how good he smells. I allow myself the luxury of a deep breath, but I don't say anything. 

"You look amazing," he breathes from behind me. I turn around, backward movement only halted by the seat in the small pickup.

"Well thank you. You clean up well yourself," I say, looking over his freshly-shaven appearance in a white shirt and dress pants. He looks more handsome than normal tonight, all dressed up and adult. Maybe the body spray that Jen picked has gone to my head.

"I know tradition states that you shouldn't kiss on the first date, let alone at the beginning of the first date, but I'm afraid I can't help myself." He says in a voice that is both husky and rich.

"Well, I suppose I could allow you to sneak one in now." I say, rolling my eyes up and to the side. "To spare you the egotistical meltdown that would surely follow a doorstep shutdown later on tonight."

"Of course," he mumbles as he presses his lips against mine, any traces of hesitance that have been present in previous kisses gone as he wraps his arms around me, fingering the delicate spaghetti straps on my tank top. I shiver from the intimate contact and sink into him, growing steadily more accustomed to how it feels to kiss him, and liking it more with each passing moment.

"This isn't a petting zoo!" Jack says as he and Jen walk down the driveway past us.

I barely hear him, and Pacey barely pulls away. "Are you sure?" He says, with a glint of something in his eye. "I must've taken the wrong exit, then."

"Forgive me for feeding the animals," I say at the same time, although Pacey and I never take our eyes off of each other. 

"That's exactly what you're doing Joey." Jack teases back. "_You have no idea_."

"I think I might." I say, cocking my head to the side and looking at Pacey's lips a little more.

"Gross. You guys are grossing me out," Jen says. From over Pacey's shoulder, I can see her covering her eyes.

"Just go find a summer fling to slobber on and you'll be fine." Pacey says, finally tossing a glance over his shoulder.

"Working on it!" Jen says with a wave thrown over her shoulder as they continue on their way down the driveway. Jen mentioned something about a party up the street, but it's a little early to be going there already.

"We should go," he says. "We have reservations."

"Reservations?" I ask. "That's a little fancy for a first date."

"Would you be impressed with jeans and a walk-in, sit down restaurant? Because we can do that if you'd rather."

"Reservations are good," I admit as I get in the truck. My insides do a funny jump when he makes sure I'm in comfortably before he shuts the door. He does a little jog over to his side of the truck and gets in. He drives a good way up the street before he speaks to me.

"So can I ask you a question?" He says.

"You just did."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Funny." He licks his lips, and the sight of his tongue peeking out catches my attention more than his words. "No, it just seemed like you were all weird when I said that my girlfriend cheated on me. I've been thinking about it for a few days, and I know it wasn't just my imagination. Was it?"

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "It wasn't just your imagination." I say quietly. I look straight ahead for a while. "I just don't want to talk about it," I say, worrying my lower lip with my teeth and shrugging.

"Oh." He says, shifting a little awkwardly. "Okay."

"The way I see it, that's more of a second date conversation."

He chuckles, looking over at me as if that comment wasn't what he was expecting and shakes his head. "I should've known you'd have our conversation catalogued by date."

"It's in my journal. Written down." I narrow my eyes. "Although I don't know if you could call it a catalogue, exactly. It's more of a quick reference."

"A guide?"

"Yeah, a guide." I repeat. "Where are you taking me?"

He smiles. "It's a surprise," he says, but he's already turning into a parking lot. He chuckles. "And here we are."

"Chez en Mer?" I ask. "House on the Sea?"

"Yes." He says. "You speak French?"

"I took it through school."

"Well, good. You can tell me what the menu says, then," he says brightly.

"What exactly is a 'Chez en Mer'?" I ask.

"It's like a dinner cruise," he says easily. He excuses himself to get out of the car. "And we set sail at seven." I wait patiently for him to come around and open my car door.

"Are we dressed up enough for this?" I ask as he helps me out of the truck.

"I think so," he says. "I've never been here before, but this is the beach. And when I asked, they said 'nice, but not formal'." He shrugs with an air of confidence that I wish I had. "I guess if it isn't good enough, they won't let us on, huh?"

I frown slightly. "How did you find time to plan this?"

"I have connections," he says vaguely and takes my hand. It's one of the easiest, most natural things in the world, which makes it seem weird to me. Especially when I realize that I didn't know him this time last week.

"That makes it sound like a drug deal or something."

"Or _something_," he says with special emphasis.

"Welcome aboard," says the host as Pacey fishes the tickets out of his shirt pocket. "Mr. Witter and Miss Potter."

"Thank you," we say in unison as he opens the dining room doors to us. You know, it could be a bad thing to be on a boat, if things didn't go well on a date. You're trapped for, like, hours. I would imagine that would be bad, at least.

"So, what do you think?"

"I think you went overboard." I say, realizing immediately how lame the pun is.

"You have no idea," he says softly, as a man who met us at the door leads us to a table for two next to a porthole.

"Wow, a window seat."

"I know. When I said I had connections, I was totally serious," he says with a casual wink as he pulls out my chair for me.

"The hostess will be by shortly with the menu presentation," the man says before excusing himself.

I realize as I sip at the pre-set water in the actual crystal in front of me that if I said anything I was thinking out loud, I would sound like a little girl. They do a _menu presentation_? When I was a hostess at the restaurant (_the_ restaurant, as in the one that would hire me) back home, the "menu presentation" consisted of handing it to the customer and telling them if we had any specials. And we just called it seating a table.

The hostess comes by and explains the menu to us. She asks if we would prefer English menus, but Pacey graciously declines, noting his 'sense of adventure'. But then he looks at me expectantly as I look over the menu, and I know that adventure had nothing to do with it, because he knows his date speaks French. At least, she speaks enough French to get us through this meal. Jen's words from earlier pop into my head.

_Only put out if he takes you somewhere with the whole menu in French_.

I scrutinize the menu in front of me carefully, holding it a little more tightly and pulling it up in front of my face as I struggle to find anything at all in English. And then I realize with starting clarity that I don't really _want_ anything on the menu to be in English because I actually enjoy putting out for him. It's at exactly this moment that I decide to discard the advice I've been so desperately seeking, and just do what I feel like doing. I believe that's called following your heart or something like that.

"Are you blushing?" He says with a teasing tone, pushing my menu down slightly so we can make eye contact.

"Maybe a little," I admit openly. "Because of something Jen said to me earlier."

"Don't listen to Jen." He says quickly, and with a very straight face.

"Why?" I ask with an inquisitive scowl.

"Because she's just trying to undermine me, and no matter what she says, I never, ever answered to Captain Poopy Pants."

I barely manage to stifle my laugh because he looks so serious. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing. What did Jen say?"

"Oh, she said I shouldn't put out on the first date unless we went somewhere that the entire menu was in French."

He sighs. "Then listen to Jen." 

I smile. "See, it's not that easy. You already told me _not_ to listen to her, Captain Poopy Pants."

"That's cute," he says. "Really, you should only listen to her if you want to, because she knew where we were coming."

"How did she know?"

"She called me and asked while you were at the mall, in case you noticed her being a little more aggressive than normal to find you the perfect outfit."

"I thought she was always like that," I say, raising the glass to my lips to sip more water. 

"Well, she is," he admits. He turns to his menu. "Have you decided?" 

"Yeah." I say, reaching across the table to point out my selection on his menu.

"Filet de Porc," he says. His pronunciation, at least according to my public school and one-semester of college education, is pretty good. "What's in it?"

"It's stuffed with onions, apples, cranberries, and herbs. At least, that's what the description says," I shrug.

"When I made the reservation, it said the soup and salad were daily and they asked me to choose the Hors d'Oeurves and dessert. They said the menu was a little limited."

"It looks good to me," I said. "There was a lot of different stuff…a couple of kinds of chicken, steak, fish…pork."

He smiles. "Which one is steak?" 

I read over my menu carefully and then point to the steak on his. "This one."

He takes my hand and holds it on the table top. "So tell me something new about you. Something I don't know yet."

I feel myself blush slightly as I fumble, too lost in the feeling of his touch to think about much of anything at all. I'm saved by our waiter coming by to present the wine list. We listen patiently to his presentation, although we are too young to order. For a moment, I wonder if Jack could get an I.D. for me so I could drink more, and then I catch myself before I chuckle and fight the urge to scold myself. That really isn't like me. 

As soon as our waiter has taken our order and dismissed himself, I turn to Pacey's expectant gaze. "So, something you don't know about me yet."

"Yes," he confirms, adding his most dazzling smile.

"Would you believe I dated a Patriots quarterback?" I say dryly. He raises and eyebrow.

"Would I believe you could or would I believe you did?"

"Nice redirect, counselor." I tease lightly. "I collect shot glasses."

He chuckles. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I have three," I say seriously, smoothing my napkin over my lap. "One from Boston, one from a weekend trip with my sister to Providence when I was in high school and one from New York."

He's still chuckling as I ask him a question. "What about you? Do you have any embarrassing collections?"

"Seashells," he finally says. "I've taken one from every beach I've ever been to. I walk around, sometimes for hours, until I find a whole one."

"I bet you have more than three."

"That I do," he says. "I've been to every beach on the Keys, a few in the Bahamas, the ones here, of course, one in North Carolina, and all the ones close to home."

"Do you know how many you have?"

"Twenty-two," he says firmly as he takes a big drink of water.

"What made you decide to do that?"

"What made you decide to collect shot glasses?"

I smile. "I wanted something when I went college scouting in Boston, and it was the only thing from the gift shop I could afford."

"Seashells are free, you know."

"Yeah, but I just don't have empty hours on my hands to hunt for them," I say, barely recognize my voice as it drips with sweet sarcasm.

"Oh, that's cute." He says. "We'll see if I put out at the end of this date."

Somewhere during our conversation, the boat has set sail and I look out over the wide expanse of ocean. "I'll bet it's amazing to get out there on your own boat."

"Yeah." He confirms, his voice suddenly wistful as he turns his gaze out the porthole, too. "I'll have to take you out one time while you're here."

"That would be fun," I say brightly. "What was your favorite place to visit?"

"I really liked Key Largo." He says, turning his gaze to his water glass. "It was the furthest I'd ever been from home when I got there, and it was this amazing rush of independence and adulthood…I felt like I could stay there forever. It was the first time I looked back after I left home, and I liked that I couldn't see home. It was like everything was behind me while I was there."

He's just summed up the appeal of this place to me, and I suddenly feel the contact between our hands again as he strums his thumb against mine lightly in tune to the soft, romantic music playing in the background somewhere. I feel the connection between us clearly and, instead of looking back, it's like I'm looking forward. For the first time in my life, I don't have that restless, unsure feeling. For the first time, I feel like everything in my life has led me here, to this perfect moment. I smile at him and look away. Our Hors d'Oeurves are delivered to the table, providing the first incentive for us to pull apart.

The five course meal is fabulous, and I feel fully stuffed and spoiled as we step off the boat after it returns to shore. I don't know how he decided on such an intimate first date, but the evening of rich food, dancing, and long looks at each other was perfect for us, even if it was a little more private than the traditional first date. I remember to discard the idea of a 'traditional' first date and to just enjoy what I'm feeling. He doesn't release my hand until he has to so he can get into the truck.

"So, this is the part of the evening where you're in charge," he says as he starts the truck. 

"How am I in charge?"

"Jack wanted us to stop by that party when we were finished with dinner, but we don't have to. It's your choice."

"We can stop by for a little while if you want to," I say with a shrug. "But it really doesn't matter to me. I'm completely satisfied with the evening as it is."

"Completely satisfied?" He says. "That's awfully bold."

"Well, what can I say? I'm easy to please."

He chuckles. "I'm not really in the mood for a party," he admits carefully, looking over at me to gauge my reaction.

"I know what you mean," I say simply and yawn to emphasize my point. "That dessert was good but…I could just lie down and not move for the rest of my life."

He smiles warmly. "Well, we have two options then, but it sounds so bad I just can't say it."

"What, your place or mine?" I ask bluntly.

"It doesn't sound so bad when you say it."

"Because I'm innocent and you're dirty."

"I'll show you dirty."

"Promise?" I ask, and I know I shock him because he's suddenly silent. I finally speak up again, wanting to alleviate the pressure of unspoken expectation that is weighing us both down. "Jen's parents have a decent movie collection here, so we can go crash in the room she's sharing with Jack and watch a movie if you want."

He smiles, and I can tell that he feels the relief of my offer as much as I do. "That sounds good."

"Okay. You have to pick the movie, though."

"That's not a smart choice. I thought you were a smart girl?"

"I have my moments of weakness." I say. All of a sudden, the expectation is there again, and it nearly kills us both before we reach Jen's house. I excuse myself to change into pajamas while he chooses a movie, and I find myself debating over my choice of pajamas. It isn't as though I have anything more comfortable than the ones Bessie gave me, so I go with those again and I pull my hair into a ponytail. If I'm going casual, I might as well go all the way. I pad into the room in my bare feet, and I'm instantly mesmerized by him comparing the two DVDs by the blue light of the television screen. I look him over, so much boy and so much man all rolled into one. His white shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, and he's kicked off his shoes and messed his hair up. The dress clothes make him look older than the nineteen he stated, but the tongue sticking out takes off at least twelve years.

"What have you narrowed it down to?" I finally manage to ask, coming into the room.

"I have Monty Python and the Holy Grail or Moulin Rouge."

I smile. "We don't have to watch Moulin Rouge if you don't want to."

"Excellent," he says, instantly bending down to put Monty Python in the player. "Get comfortable. Because once I get over there, I'm stealing all of the covers and I'm sticking my knee in the middle of your back."

"Hey, I'll fight you back on the covers." I pull back the white down comforter and plain white sheets and stop for a moment, rethinking the decision to share a bed with someone on the first date. That's kind of slutty, isn't it?

I discard the thought. My first instinct was that the cuddling potential of a movie was too much to pass up, so I'm going to stick with it. Somehow, laid back is closer to how I feel when I'm with him then dressed up. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time at dinner. But somehow, fighting over covers and not watching a movie that's playing seems more like how our relationship is shaping up.

"Have you seen this movie?" He asks, as I scowl at the mock-Swedish subtitles going on about a moose.

"No." 

"You've never seen Monty Python?"

"No." I say, turning my head slightly as the screen begins to flash through several bright colors.

"Why am I not surprised?" He mocks. "If I had popcorn, I would throw it at you."

"Why do you think I didn't offer?" I say, turning toward him for the first time and noticing that he's wearing the same look of contemplation he wore moments ago as he tried to choose the movie, and I realize where I've seen it before. It's always there just before he kisses me, which he does slowly just to torture me, I'm pretty sure.

I close my eyes and feel myself fall into him, breathing in the manly scent of his cologne as he slides his tongue into my mouth and I feel the elation that I can somehow only capture when we're doing this. 

So this is kissing. That's all I can think about when we're kissing. I allow his hands to wander freely over my back, and all I can think about is the warm tingling that follows his fingertips. Is that something my body is doing or is it some sort of magic that his fingers work on me?

Slowly, we tangle in one another and he lays us back on the bed, carefully resting on top of me and I gasp out loud. He pulls back.

"Is this not okay?" He asks, far enough away from me that he can actually look at my face. His hair is sticking up from where my hands have been in it and he looks charmingly disheveled.

"This is excellent," I say simply, and use my hand on the back of his neck to pull his mouth back to mine. I surprise myself a little when I feel my hands start grasping at his shirt, and eventually start undoing the buttons. I slide his shirt back over his shoulders, leaving him in just his wifebeater. He cups my breast in his hand through my tanktop, sending shivers down through my stomach, where it culminates in some previously unmentioned need. The need to be skin to skin, to be closer to him. He rubs against me and groans as he bends down to kiss my neck. I don't recognize the breathless, light sound that escapes me as he does that, but I do recognize the feeling as it spreads through me, the same feeling from when he was rubbing the material of my tanktop over the sensitive flesh on my nipple.

"Pacey," I say simply as I rake my fingers through his hair again. I feel my legs fall apart at the knees, allowing him to rest more comfortably and blissfully close to me. I'm surprised at my own actions as I begin to rub against him. He seems surprised as he pulls his face away for just a minute to study me as I do that, feeling an almost unbearable ache begin to throb. I said almost unbearable because it's like that on one hand, but on the other hand, it's the most bearable thing I've ever felt and I want to keep feeling it. It's as if I don't know what I'll feel if I stop.

I don't know how long we're there, just rubbing against each other in the most intimate, torturous, and exquisite ways imaginable, but I notice quickly when the light flips on.

"Jesus, Joey, I hope the menu was all in French!" Jack says as Pacey and I part as quickly as possible. It's like the light broke the spell that we were weaving and we are trying to shake off the haze. In his haste, Pacey tangles in the covers and falls off the bed.

"Uhh…" I say, torn between tossing some smart ass quip at Jack and helping Pacey up off the floor. Although my clothes are still on and in mostly the right places, I cover myself as much as I can with the covers and I reach down to help Pacey detangle. He's rubbing the back of his head where he smacked it on the nightstand.

"Are you okay?" I ask, reaching out to touch the lump.

"I've been better," Pacey says honestly, moving to kiss me as I gently feel the lump on the back of his head. I smile and let him kiss me, also remembering a few minutes ago when things were much better than him on the floor and rubbing the back of his head. 

"Well, I just came to get my swim trunks," Jack says, finally in motion from the bedroom door. "Don't mind me."

"Then why did you turn the light on?" Pacey says in protest, wincing.

"Well, you didn't put the scrunchie on the door." Jack says simply. "That's our code around here for 'I'm about to get lucky, so don't come inside unless the world is ending'."

"I must've missed the memo," Pacey says dryly as I reach out to help him up.

"Well, now you know." Jack says, reappearing in the bedroom with trunks in hand. "Have fun."

"Hey, slip a scrunchie on the door when you go out, would you?" I call after Jack. He sticks his hand back inside the door, and I'm not surprised to see that he's flipping me off.

"You know, that's okay," Pacey says, tracing my jawline with his index finger. "I should go anyway. I have to work tomorrow morning and all."

"I wish you didn't." I say, suddenly pouting without really knowing why.

He smiles warmly. "So do I." He kisses me before he speaks again. "Can I see you tomorrow after I'm finished working?"

"You better." I say, falling into him all over again as we kiss. We get caught up in another long series of kisses before he pulls away.

"Thank you. I had a great time with you." He says, walking around to the other side of the bed and picking up his shirt.

"Isn't that my line?" 

"Nope. I said it first. Find your own line." He smiles broadly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Definitely," I say, accepting another kiss from him. "Good night, Pacey."

"Night, Potter." He leaves the room with a smile, and as I hear him whistling the song we were dancing to earlier on the boat, I feel myself smile, too.

"How's that treating you?" Pacey asks, gesturing towards my Slurpee.

"Uh…" I say, holding it up. The light coming from the row of beach houses reveals that I've sucked out most of the flavor and I'm left with shaved ice. "It's okay."

"Man, you really sucked all the fun out of that."

"How long have you been waiting to drop that line?" I ask with a sweet smile.

"About twenty minutes." 

"That's what I thought," I say. "So I'm really sorry this is the first party of Will's that you've been to this summer."

"It's okay." He says easily, taking the drink I'm not going to finish out of my hand. "I've gotten to see Will for most of my life. I've got some lost time to make up for."

"Someday, you're going to run out of sweet things to say, and then what will you have?"

"Ouch! I'll have you know my mouth is capable of a multitude of other things that you are currently unaware of."

"I may be unaware, but I can imagine," I say in a low voice. He swallows hard and I don't have to look too hard to see his earlobes turning red. It's been exactly five nights since our date. Five work nights to be exact. It turns out that work nights involve an awful lot of making out like mad from the time he gets off work until the time he begs to go to bed in peace. But he has tonight and tomorrow night off, so he's promised me a party tonight and a real second date tomorrow night. So I donned my red bikini and sarong again. I didn't even ask for girly help this time. I got ready completely on my own. Jen was prancing around our house, and she kept saying something about her baby being all grown up…I wasn't sure that was a compliment, so I just left it alone. Her summer fling being Will means that she came early to help set up. Pacey was very gracious and offered to buy me some Seven-Eleven nachos and a Slurpee to ensure that I get what he dubbed 'substantial nutritional value before I liquor you up and take advantage of you'.

"Yeah, well keep wearing the red bikini and you're not going to have to imagine because I'm going to throw you down and take you right here on the volleyball court."

I turn to press myself intimately against him. "Promise?" I ask, slipping my arms around his neck and kissing him, still enjoying the feeling of pure happiness that shoots through me when I kiss him. He lowers his hands to my lower back, using them as leverage to draw me closer to him so that I grind against him in the most wonderfully painful way imaginable.

"Don't start something we won't finish, Potter."

"Yes, Captain."

"Stop calling me that!" He says, smacking my ass loudly as I turn to walk away from him. I did get a halting and edited version of the Captain Poopy Pants story from him and Jen the other night. Truth be told, I really didn't understand that, but I so enjoy irritating him by calling him that.

"Well, well, well…look who finally showed up to something," Will says warmly, greeting Pacey. Although his words are somewhat bitter, the smile on his face betrays him. "You must be the lovely Joey I've heard so much about."

"No, I'm the other Joey." I say, shooting Pacey a look. He said Will was really excited to meet me and had heard a lot about me. I warned him to stop telling people I was lovely so they didn't get a nasty shock.

"Excellent. Let's get this girl a drink, Pace!" Will says, clapping him on the back with a chuckle as Jen sidles up to him with his drink. He kisses her in a way that makes my eyes widen, because I didn't completely realize that they were that comfortable with each other. Then again, I've only lived here for a little over a week and I'm pretty comfortable with Pacey.

"I'm on it!" Pacey says, a little too enthusiastically. He kisses my cheek and then exits.

"So, Jen and I are going clubbing tomorrow night if you and Pacey wanted to come," Will says, taking a healthy drink of his beer.

"Um…" I say uncertainly, looking around to see where Pacey went. "I don't know. Ask Pacey. He has to work the next morning. I think he was going to plan on something quiet."

Will nods. "Okay, I'll ask him. This whole 'working the next morning' thing really makes it hard to have a life."

I scowl at him, feeling a diatribe coming on about being over-privileged and not having to work, but I'm saved by the arrival of my beer. I take a sip of it and realize that I've regressed to the non-beer-drinker that I was at the beginning of the last party. Apparently it takes a little to drink a lot more.

"There's that face again," he says softly.

"I don't think I'm good at this," I state plainly, turning to look at him as he cuddles up a little to my back. "Will invited us to go clubbing tomorrow night."

"No. Tomorrow night is just you and me."

I smile back at him. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he says. "I vote we go dance," he adds with a gesture to where others are dancing.

I look at him skeptically. "I don't think I've had enough to drink for that yet."

"Come on," he says, literally pulling me out to the area in the living room, crammed with sweaty bodies, pulsating in general en masse to the beat of the song. "I'll show you."

He turns toward me and pulls me closer to him with his free hand, gripping his beer tightly. "First, hold on to your drink. Unless you want to dump it all over one of us."

"The look on your face _would_ be priceless."

"Okay, I'll just amend that, then. Just hold on to your drink." He continues as I chuckle, gesturing toward Jen. "She might be a better one to teach you. Look at her."

"I know. I think she's a little crazy." I say with a nod to back up my point. Once you get that girl dancing, she just doesn't stop. 

"Anyway, so just put your feet like this, kind of inside mine, and then do whatever you feel like doing with your arms and legs."

"That's not very specific," I complain as he starts dancing. He's positioned us so close that we rub against one another with pretty much every move. In fact, after about two songs, he leans over to whisper in my ear in a husky voice that I recognize.

"Let's go find a room," he says.

I scowl at him a little and thump him on the chest. "Could there be a more disgusting cliché?"

He frowns thoughtfully, but looks at me with the full wattage of a genuine smile. "Probably not."

I nod. "Okay, let's go." He immediately seizes my hand and leads me towards the hallway. I set my drink down on some random table as we go.

"So is this the room you take all the girls to?" I ask as he leads us into a bedroom far down the hall from the action. I sit on the bed as he turns to close the door.

"This is the spare room, so I know no one is going to come in." He says simply. "I met these guys the first week I was down here. I mean, other than being a bunch of rich kids with nothing to do other than party, they're fun."

I smile. "I don't know. I think you're pretty fun," I say teasingly.

"Oh, thanks for the compliment," he says dryly. "You know, the more I get to know you, the more of a smart ass you are. I don't know how much I like that."

"Well, if it weren't so easy to have fun at your expense, I have a feeling you would enjoy it more."

"I might." He says. "And here I've been trying to be polite all this time," he adds with a falsely rueful shake of his head. He chuckles as he drops down next to me on the bed.

"That was your first mistake."

"No…" he turns to look at me, a look that stops me in my sarcastic tracks. He's so serious and almost melancholy as he looks at me, finally reaching out to gingerly touch my face. He brushes an errant hair back over my shoulder and meets my eyes. "My first mistake was coming out to meet you that morning on the beach."

I scowl slightly. "What do you mean?"

He sighs. "Do you believe it's possible to fall in love at first sight?"

"I never used to." I say simply, unable to say anything else as I look at him looking at me.

"But you do now?"

"I…I'm not sure," I stammer. "I guess I haven't really stopped to think about it."

He closes his eyes and nods. "That's fair." He clears his throat. "I mean, we know you're leaving at the end of the summer. And we know that I'm not leaving any time soon."

"Right," I say, still searching his face for something I can recognize and hold on to. I'm getting to know him fairly well. I can tell by his face when he wants to kiss me, when he wants to hold on to me, when he wants to stay somewhere, when he wants to go. Somehow, we're developing our own secret language with each other. But right now, I don't recognize anything. The expression on his face is completely new to me. 

"So, of course that would make you the worst possible person in the world for me to fall for, right?" 

"What?" I ask, still confused and still a little wary of the expression on his face.

"So naturally, I have. I mean, I think I am."

"Falling for me?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Yeah." He says simply.

Now, perhaps it's my lack of socialization. Perhaps it's my defense mechanisms, which are, by the way, _screaming_ at me to get out of here while the getting is good. I'm not sure what it is, but something prompts my next somewhat breathlessly asked question. "How do you know?"

He studies me carefully for a long time, not fidgeting in the little ways that he's already noted that I do. In fact, he reaches out and stills my hands, where I'm wringing them carefully around each other. "I just know. I could spout off a thousand romantic little epithets, but it boils down to something much simpler. I just _know._"

I sigh. That doesn't help me at all. It doesn't help me untangle how I feel about him, because for all of my desire to leave it unexamined and just go with it, I want to know where it is that I'm heading. I want to know where exactly 'it' is going, and where I'm being taken.

"What's going on?" He finally asks, reaching out again to gently rub my lip where my teeth are doing their level best to rip a hole in the bottom one. I can feel the red tenderness of the spot already; I've chewed on it for so many consecutive minutes that it's starting to swell a little.

I look up at his eyes, confused and startled by his honesty and the way he can narrow something as complex as a feeling, an emotion, down to a statement of simple knowledge. _How_ does he know? As he begins to trace randomly over the floral pattern on my skirt, split open at the side so a good portion of my leg is revealed, I suddenly become jumpy at the contact for reasons indefinable. I stand up, feeling the material of my skirt relax and fall to mid-calf, flowing easily around my legs as I begin to pace anxiously over the course of the floor.

"It's not as simple as asking me what's going on, because I have no idea. I've never done this before, I've never experienced anything like this before and I certainly can't explain it, not to you and not even to myself. Forgive me for taking a moment to try and gather my thoughts and for trying to put even a fraction of the thousands of things running through my mind at this moment into some sort of conversational verse." I stop to look at him. He's studying me intently, wearing the ghost of a frown and his mouth has started to fall slightly slack. "I don't understand how someone can just give that up and understand it and define it and talk about it because all it brings you is trouble and I don't know that I have it in me to withstand that kind of trouble right now because as you yourself pointed out at the beginning of this conversation, or maybe it was somewhere in the middle that I'm leaving at the end of the summer and there isn't really even time between now and then to stop and breathe, let alone examining any possible issues of abandonment or mistrust or anything else that could be…."

"Jo, you're babbling." He says simply, standing to pull me to a stop and make me look him in the eyes.

"Huh?"

"It's not even conscious? Do you even know what you're talking about?" 

"What?" I ask again, looking at him and trying again, unsuccessfully, to define the look on his face.

"I wasn't talking," I say simply, looking at him as though he's shining a bright light into my eyes. I'm similarly disoriented by the disruption of my monologue.

"O…kay. Apparently I hit the crazy button." He says with a long, drawn out sigh. "Forget I said anything, okay?" 

I swallow and look at him as I tug my hand through my hair. His face falls a little as he watches more of my obvious distress signals. "I'm not crazy," I protest feebly.

"I know you're not crazy," he says. "Let's just…let's just go."

I sigh as he gently takes my hand and leads me out of the room, not looking back at me. The pronounced detachment between us makes me sad, because regardless of definition, whatever it is that I've felt with him has always been warm and gentle. This is a little more acute, and a little lonelier. He approaches Will and Jen where they were cuddling in the Jacuzzi.

"Hey, thanks for the invite, but we're going to head out early." Pacey says flatly to them. "I'm not feeling too well."

For some reason, I can't look Jen in the eyes when she meets me with a questioning glance. I look away, study the richness of the 1970's architecture, anything to keep my eyes away from her as Pacey bids goodbye and pulls me out through the gate in the back. We walk silently along the beach toward the beach house, where he left his truck parked earlier.

"Pace…" I say, finally breaking the silence between us about a half mile down the beach.

"What?" 

"I'm sorry it freaks me out," I say simply in a small voice. I look over at him seriously as he looks over at me with a sad smile. "It isn't that I don't have feelings for you, you know that. It's that I don't know exactly what that means yet."

"You don't have to apologize."

"I want to explain, but I don't know how. It's like the words don't exist in my vocabulary."

"It's okay," he says sharply. He looks at me with an apologetic glance that plainly states he wasn't intending that much force. 

"No, it's not. It's groundbreaking for me, and I promise it's just going to take me some time to get it all under control."

"Why do you have to get it under control?" He says, bursting out in frustration.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he says with a pout, pulling his hand away from mine.

"I have to get it under control because you have it under control," I say, barely concealing the edge of defensiveness.

"I don't have it under control." He says with a wry chuckle. "Trust me, there's nothing about any of this that is in my control. The difference is that I can identify it, and that seems to irritate you."

"I'm a little jealous of that ability." I say, pulling roughly on the latch to the gate to Jen's. He lets me fiddle with it for a minute before he stills my hand, and gently flips the latch open. He holds it open for me and follows me to the back door of the house. I don't make eye contact with him until we're at the front door of the house. It's quite obvious where I stand tonight. He'll be heading to the boat straight from here, probably without looking back.

"Let's try something," he says, surprising me with his low, scratchy voice. The voice he has when he's turned on enough that his words are incoherent.

"Okay."

He reaches a hand up to my jaw, his lips on mine just seconds afterward. I feel his warmth spread through my body like wildfire. I swear he catches a few vital organs on fire with that kiss, and what his kiss doesn't warm, his hands do.

"How did that feel?" He asks as he pulls slowly away. I reluctantly open my eyes.

I smile softly at him. "I don't know how to describe it."

"Well, objectively you would use adjectives," he says teasingly. Although he's teasing, he knows it gives me a structure. It helps me.

My smile brightens a little. "Okay." I lick my lips, tasting a faint trace of him. "It was warm and soft." I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "It was you."

"And what exactly am I?" 

"Wonderful." I say, my eyes slipping closed on my goofy grin.

He gives me another short kiss. "Well, there's something to help you start 'controlling' it all, then." He smiles as I open my eyes and the door. 

"Good night, Jo."

"Good night." I say, my voice sounding sweet even to my own ears. He goes through the door, not looking back, but waving once he's in his truck and backing out of the driveway. I sigh and lean against the door, in a fabulous state of confusion. I want to know how he could confuse me without making it a bad thing. I'm completely upside down, but I'm more convinced than ever that the way to figure it out is to be with him.

I look at the phone warily. Would it do any good to call my sister at this point? All that happened last time was that I walked away upset and confused. At the same time, she knows me. She could provide valuable insight, and it would probably go a long way in reassuring her that I'm doing okay and that I've made a good decision. Surely she won't be angry anymore, right? We've had time to let the dust settle. I note the time before calling, only shortly before bedtime for Bessie. It's probably still early enough to call her. I pick up the phone and call home before I can give myself the chance to back out.

"Potter B&B," Bessie says simply, sounding tired.

"Hi, Bess. It's me."

"Joey?" She says, sounding a little angry and a little disbelieving. Maybe I didn't wait long enough to call.

"Yeah." I say. 

She sighs resignedly. "You're really not coming home, are you?"

Inexplicably, I recall her harsh words last week and tears come to my eyes. "No." 

After a long pause, she continues. "Are you okay?"

"Mostly," I say simply. "Are things there okay?"

"We miss you." 

This is a far departure from the bitter, angry, and accusatory sister that I spoke with last week. "I miss you guys, too. I really do." 

"I thought about calling you yesterday…" she begins simply. "I think you might be psychic or something."

"Why is that?"

Her voice trembles a little as she continues softly. "Joey, dad's here. He showed up on my doorstep last night. I'm so glad you aren't here right now."

The tears spill over. I'm glad I'm not there, too. I don't know what I would do if I saw him. "I'm sorry." 

"No, Joey, it's a good thing. It's a good thing for me that he's here. I think…well, you and I have been a little different all along in this respect. I've needed closure with him. For you, it was like the wound was cauterized. It was so swift and so severe there was never a chance for you to have anything but anger for him. But I…I needed to understand." 

"Why is he there?" I ask, suddenly angry and defensive for her.

"He's here to say goodbye. He was released last month, and they've had him living in a halfway house near the prison. He was only just released on parole and given permission to find his own boarding in Boston. He'll be gone at the beginning of next week. And he swears that he won't be back."

"Good," I say petulantly, sounding more like a child than the adult I'm trying to convince her I'm becoming.

"Look, let me boil everything I've been going through this week down to you." Bessie says sharply. "I'm very angry that you deserted us. There is nothing you can do to change that." She clips the sentence against my protest, which dies before it leaves my lips. "But obviously you feel this is something you have to do, and I'm honestly not really willing to lose my only sister over this anger. So I'm sorry that I told you that you're unwelcome here. Bodie and I have talked a lot about it, he's done a lot of playing the devil's advocate in the past few days, and you're still our family."

"Thank you," I say simply.

"But I still don't understand it, and I don't think I ever will."

"I'm just asking you to tolerate it more than anything else," I say simply.

"I guess I can do that, but just barely."

I grab a blanket and wrap it around myself tightly. "Can I ask you a question? I need some advice."

"Oh, and here I thought you were calling to make amends," she teases.

"Well, that was the biggest part of it, and if you don't want to help me, I won't force you to."

"No, ask your question."

"What does it feel like to fall in love?" I ask finally, wondering if that's really what's happening.

"I don't know." She says honestly. "I just sort of looked back on it after it happened. One day, I was just there." 

"That doesn't help."

"If you have to ask, then I'll guess that you aren't." She says dryly. "I would also say that because you've only been there a week."

"I know, but I met an amazing guy my first day here. He told me that he's falling for me, and I don't know what to do."

"Slow down."

"I don't know that slowing down is really going to do any good at this point."

"Why, have you slept with him?"

"No!" I say indignantly. "Of course I haven't."

"Then slow down," she says pointedly. "It isn't worth getting hurt over. You're not there permanently anyway, so why bring a permanent emotion into it?" 

"It's not like it's voluntary." 

"That's true," she allows. "Just go slow. Be sure of what you feel before you make the commitment of saying it out loud."

I nod. "Okay. Thanks for your advice."

"You're welcome."

"I'll let you get to bed, but give everyone there a kiss from me," I say. "Have Bodie give you yours."

She chuckles. "Okay. Good night."

"Good night." I hang up the phone, still feeling confused more than ever. It's about then that I realize no one can tell me if I'm falling in love with Pacey but myself. I just wish I knew.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: **__ Sorry. I've been so distracted with an avalanche of ideas for Glee fanfic (at the risk of sounding like a self-promoting whore, go check it out if Glee is your thing) that I haven't been so faithful about posting this, which is stupid because it's already written. So here's an extra long chunk and I promise not to stay away so long next time. We are about one-third done after this update. _

_Thanks muchly for the reading, replying, favoriting, following, etc. It totally makes my day to see there are still some DC fanatics out there with me!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I'm straight up sick of saying this after a decade, so no I don't own DC. If I did, some things would've been very, very different. And I would've bronzed Pacey and kept him forever._

* * *

**In White Houses**

I tug the door shut tightly behind me and give an involuntary shiver. This morning was colder than most, the sky peppered with thick clouds that hint of rain, but give off a sunrise more brilliant and shaded than normal. It was one of those sunrises that make me want to paint again, after all these years. It was one of those inspirational moments.

"Morning," Jen says easily, earning a jump from me. I place my hand over my heart.

"Good morning." I say. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be up yet."

She smiles. "Well, I got up especially for you. I wanted to talk to you for a minute." She nudges an empty mug toward me across the table. "I made coffee."

"Excellent," I proclaim as I take the mug and go over to the counter to fill it. "I'm assuming you wanted to talk about Pacey."

"That's correct," Jen says. "It seemed like something serious happened last night. I mostly wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Yeah, everything's fine." I say, settling into the chair across the table from her. "It's just…well, it's starting to get complicated, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"I suppose the biggest part of it is that I'm inexperienced, and not just in the sense where relationships with boys are concerned. I just don't have a lot of practice verbalizing how I feel about things. I have more practice keeping them inside, so I tend to do that. Pacey on the other hand, is very open. He can easily identify how he feels and he can describe it to me like it's the easiest thing in the world. I think he's starting to get a little frustrated with my lack of articulate ability."

She frowns. "Did he tell you he's in love with you?"

"He said he's falling for me. Love was never mentioned, but I think that's what he was getting at." I meet her eyes for the first time. "And I totally freaked out, even with the little that he revealed to me."

"Well, let's start with this. Do you enjoy spending time with Pacey?"

"So much."

"Okay. And how do you feel when you're with him?"

"See, this is exactly what he did. He kissed me and then…" I hesitate, blushing with the force of my openness and surprised at my desire, and eagerness, to have an understanding third party to work this out with. Someone who can help me describe what it is I'm feeling, maybe even someone who could give me the words I could say to Pacey to help him understand.

"And then…"

"And then asked me to describe how it felt, objectively." I take a sip of the hot coffee, not caring that the end of my tongue scalds a bit. "And I suppose how I feel when I'm with him is a magnification of that same thing. It's just dizzy and warm and hopeful and bright…"

"See, you can explain it." Jen says.

"I can also fight it, and whether I want to or not, that seems to be my inclination," I say, which is my first entirely real and solid brush with honesty in a while. It's something I'm afraid to admit out loud to anyone, especially Pacey.

"Why?"

I sigh. "I suppose there are a lot of sound psychological reasons for it. I know, because I've been told by my older sister, that I have abandonment issues. As a result of these and some other things I've been a witness to, I tend to be untrusting toward other people. And even though I can feel it in my bones that Pacey would never intentionally hurt me, I can also feel this innate resistance that I can't really explain to anyone."

"Try me." She says simply, narrowing her eyes. "I can be a pretty good bouncing board."

"It's not anything against you. It's something I've never shared with anyone but Bessie, and it really is kind of personal and—"

"Jo, whatever it is, you have to get it off your chest before you can sort through things with Pacey. Whatever this is, it's preventing you from having honest feelings, unclouded by anything else. Sharing it may go a long way to undoing the damage."

I look at her uncertainly and look away. Jack's words from last week come back to me. _At some point, you have to let someone in or you're going to explode._ Just as they goaded me into spilling a little something to him, they're going to prompt me to tell Jen everything imaginable…probably more than she wants to know. I sigh, and drink more coffee. "You asked me, that first day that I agreed to come down here, what happened to my parents, and I didn't exactly answer, but you said you understood complex parent/child relationships." I look down into the coffee, wondering if the grounds, like tea leaves, could reveal something about my future. Doubtful and I probably wouldn't want to know what was there anyway. "Well, the thing is that my relationship with my parents is actually quite simple. My mother died, and I irrevocably hate my father."

Jen raises her eyebrows. "And this somehow plays into your fear of intimate relationships?"

"Absolutely. My mom was diagnosed with cancer the summer after I turned 11. She had a really rough time of it from the beginning, it was fast-moving and she only lasted about a year after her diagnosis. My dad, in the meantime, had digressed in character to the point that he was selling drugs and cheating on my dying mother throughout this. I caught him one night, coming home late and smelling basically like a whore house. I wondered if my mother knew, but I hoped she didn't because it was so heartbreaking."

"Oh, my God," Jen says, leaning forward anxiously. "Did you ever talk to him about it?"

I sigh. "Not in so many words. We had a 'family meeting' after his arraignment, where he'd pleaded guilty and it was pretty obvious he was going to prison for a while. There was a social worker there, because already they were trying to figure out what to do with me. I mean, Bessie was easy because she was legal. She'd spent that whole year my mom was sick away at college, practically at my mom's insistence. It seemed pretty obvious that she would continue going to school. But I wasn't so obvious. I was far from being anything resembling an adult and I had no living relatives other than Bessie to speak of. My dad has an older brother that we hadn't seen since my grandparents' funeral. They died together in a car accident when I was five. My mom was an only child, but her mother had died when she was fifteen, and her dad wasn't extremely far behind. She used to tell me that he died of a broken heart, just six years after her mother, and only shortly after Bessie was born. So, the social worker put me, Bessie, and my father in a room to talk about things. I told him in no uncertain terms that I hated him for what he'd done to my family." I shrug my shoulder rather emptily and pause to take a drink. "My mom relied on my dad, you know? They had been married for a really long time, for over 20 years, and they had built a life for our family together. It seemed like, given the chance to do something heroic and selfless my dad turned around and ran away...which isn't exactly the image of her father a 12-year-old girl wants."

"So how does this play into your relationship with Pacey?" Jen asked, not sounding doubtful, just sounding curious.

"If you can be with someone and love someone for that long, and then have them betray you like that, what's the point? I would almost rather just live life by myself than subject myself to any of that again."

"I bet if you had the chance to ask your mom, though, she would've done everything the same, Joey. I'm sure that she loved her girls and despite everything, loved your father. So he was a flawed person—that's true of everyone. Just because everyone has flaws doesn't mean that Pacey is going to cheat on you because your father cheated on your mother."

"But what if?" I say, looking up at her with a smirk. "I've stayed far away from relationships because they, to me, are so flawed."

"You're pretty self-aware, which means you're miles ahead of the rest of us." She says simply. "You should tell Pacey all of this."

I scowl at her. "No way."

"Why? If he feels the way he claims, it won't make a difference. If he doesn't feel the way he claims and he wants to turn tail and run from you and your thousands of issues, it'll hurt way less now than it would later. Especially because I think you're probably falling for him and you don't even know it."

I give her a nervous smile. "Which would bring me back to my original question of how would I know it? I mean, it's only been a week. That isn't enough time to…"

"Why isn't it?" Jen says. "I can tell you after three days that Will is a summer fling and won't amount to more than that. I could've told you after ten minutes that Jack and I would be friends forever. You can evaluate a potential relationship with someone in less than a week. Let's put it this way. Could you see yourself falling for Pacey? Could you do this, hang out with him like you have been, indefinitely?"

"I could see myself hanging out with him for more than just this summer." I say.

"See, you've already looked at yourself, and him, past the point you know it's going to go. There is no question that you're leaving in August, right?"

"Right."

"But you've already imagined saying goodbye to him, and it made you a little sad."

"Right."

"And then you wanted to forget the whole thing because if it made you a little sad now, you know it's going to make you more than a little sad after you spend the whole summer with him."

I swallow hard and look at her honestly. "I don't know that I'm ready to have this conversation with him."

"You need to just do it. Don't second-guess, don't listen to that little voice in your head that's telling you to get out of there without a backwards glance. Just shut the voice up, sit still, and watch his reaction to what you just told me. Trust in him enough to tell him why you don't generally trust people and see what his response is. Like I said, that would be very telling."

I sigh and take a drink of my coffee. "What if it tells things I don't want to know yet?"

"Let me tell you one thing that might set your mind at ease a little." Jen says, drinking her coffee and curling her hands around the mug as she sets it down. "The Pacey I know will never, ever cheat on another person. He is loyal to a fault, and he isn't afraid to lose his heart to someone in spite of his own experience. He's just looking for the right person to lose his heart to, because he was very damaged when he and Andie broke up. No, he doesn't harbor feelings for her anymore, but he can still feel what he felt when she cheated on him. In a lot of ways, he's still frozen to the spot where she told him, and desperately looking for someone, probably you, to help him get past it. You can trust him because of his experiences, and he can trust you because of yours. You may not find someone again anytime soon who you could trust as easily as you can trust Pacey. Anybody who knows him, including himself most likely, will tell you that it's true. He will never cheat. Period."

"It isn't just about fidelity." I say, my voice so fragile I'm afraid it will break. "I don't know that I have the ability to make one person my whole life. I don't think I can do it, because everyone that I thought was good in my life has left me at one point or another. Everyone that I relied on is gone. So I learned not to rely on anyone."

"Except your sister."

I swallow hard. "Sometimes, I think I just need to find the right thing for her to be out of my life. I was a little afraid that I'd done that when I decided to come down here."

"But you were wrong, weren't you?"

"Yes. I called her, and while she admitted that she's still angry, she at least talked to me and apologized for being so harsh."

Jen nods. "So give Pacey the same opportunity. It will most likely be worth it and you'll go back to school at the end of the summer a richer person for the experience."

Pacey knocks on the back door just then, scaring us both. We look at each other and laugh a little. "I guess I better take this, huh?" I say, looking at her with a nervous smile.

"Try not to be afraid." Jen says. "Just be honest with him."

I take a deep, bracing breath, and go to the door as Jen slips out of the kitchen. "Good morning." I say to him with a smile.

"Good morning," he repeats. "I missed running with you this morning."

"Yeah, I…I had some stuff to think about. I was up earlier than normal." I move out of the way so that he can come inside. By force of habit, I check him out as he comes inside. He's dressed in a grey sweatshirt, marked with a faded high school logo, and black basketball shorts. Basketball shorts that, it should be noted, rather nicely accentuate his ass and the curve of his hard thighs. I shiver a little bit involuntarily as I shut the door.

"So did you think things through?"

"With some guidance," I say, gesturing over my shoulder to Jen's room. "Coffee?"

"Sure," he says. "It's a little cool out there this morning."

"Yeah." I agree absently, grabbing him a clean mug from the cupboard and placing on the table in front of him. I top off my own mug and fill his. He's taken the seat I was sitting at a moment ago, so I slide my mug to the seat next to him and sit down. "So, I think we should probably talk."

"That sounds a little foreboding," he says in a shaky voice, scratching absently at a spot on his chest just above his heart.

"I think it's more difficult for me than it is for you," I say, bowing my head shyly. "Because the thing is, feelings aren't my specialty. At least, not feelings of this variety. Feelings of hurt, loneliness, rejection, insecurity…I can manage those. I even have labels for those." I meet his eyes bravely, even though my bravery is more of a front than anything. "You asked me, on our first date, about something that was bothering me and I played it off. I think I told you it was a second date conversation."

He leans in a little, and takes my hand away from where I was fidgeting with the handle on my mug, wrapping my hand in the warmth of both of his. "I remember that."

I close my eyes, my bravery gone. I take several breaths, concentrate on the feeling of my hand in his, and I swallow hard, drawing strength from all of those things. "I told you that my mom died when I was twelve. Shortly before she died, I caught my father one night. He'd been out late, she said he was just closing up the restaurant we owned, but when he came in, he did so with the smell of perfume on him that I didn't recognize as my mom's perfume. It was cheap, and it smelled like those women downtown that only depraved men have anything to do with. Don't ask me how I knew that's what it was, I'm not sure. I just knew. I knew that he'd been cheating on her while she was sick." I could tell Jen about this all rationally and with a sad retrospective. Telling Pacey somehow, is different, and I can feel tears in my eyes. "That night, I swore that I would never love someone. I promised myself that it was easier to go through life alone and bitter, rather that putting myself out there. I promised myself that it would be worth it not to, because I would never be hurt in the way I know my father hurt my mother in those final months. I mean, if you can't trust someone you've been married to for 20 years, and someone you have been with for your whole life, how could I trust someone that I met somewhere along the way?" I sniffle pathetically, finally looking at him. The tears feel almost cleansing, though. It feels like some of the clouds of depression and loneliness may be lifting with my confession.

"If you are anything like your mother, I don't know how he could've done that to her." He begins simply, pulling one of his hands away from mine to wipe my tears away with his thumb. "Because all I've been able to see since we met is you."

I inhale a shaky breath. "Jen made me talk to her about everything," I say simply.

At this, he laughs out loud. "I'm sure she did."

"And she thinks that I should feel safe with you, because of things you've been through. She said our insecurities could work together to make us strong." I drag my eyes up to his, suddenly hesitant to see his reaction.

He has the most heart-breakingly hopeful look on his face I've ever seen.

I take a deep breath and gather my courage. "Pacey, I'm falling for you. I'm falling for you hard, and I know it. I've known it all along, I've just been desperately fighting it and I'm sorry. But it's there, and I don't know what it is about you exactly, but there is something that makes me trust you, against the grain and against any expectations I've ever had for myself. It's just there, as crazy as that might make me sound."

"It doesn't make you crazy," he says, continuing to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "It makes you cautious. I could probably learn from that."

I smile brightly at him, holding his gaze for a moment before I take a sip of my coffee.

"Are you _sure_ it's not too early to be up?" I hear Jack say, followed by loud hesitant thumps that I assume are his footsteps.

"I'm sure," Jen says, and as they enter the kitchen, we can see that she is actually pushing him towards the coffee pot. "Besides, coffee's on already, so quit your bitching."

"Jen, I realize that coffee makes everything better in your world, but you have to realize that may not be the case for the general population."

"Tell me what part of the general population you fit into and I'll make allowances."

Pacey and I just watch them as they continue to bicker lightly while Jen pours Jack his coffee, puts a little milk and a lot of sugar in it, and slides the cup in front of him.

"Hi, guys." Jack says, accepting the mug eagerly despite his protestations.

"Hi," Pacey says, not bothering to look away from me or stop smiling.

"Good morning," I say to Jack, not looking away from Pacey either, until Jack sits down at the table.

"So, who's making breakfast, Pacey?"

"What?" Pacey says, looking over at Jack. "You assume that, just because I made you phenomenal French toast _one_ _time _in high school that I'm willing to make you breakfast again?"

"Yes." Jack says. "I think that's about right. Besides, you've got a girl here to impress, which was also the motivating factor back then, so I think it's only fair that I stand to benefit, because you are sitting in my kitchen, drinking my coffee."

Jen laughs out loud as she sits down at the last remaining chair. "Hold on a minute there, little buckaroo. I believe this is technically my parents' kitchen, and technically Audrey's coffee."

"So where's Audrey?"

"I don't know, getting a little piece of summer ass? Who cares? She'll be back." Jen says, settling into the cup of coffee as though it's an old friend she hasn't seen for a very, very long time.

"I think I've already impressed the girl," Pacey says. He looks over at me again. "What would you say, Jo?"

"Yeah, Jack. He already made me breakfast," I admit, sipping my coffee.

"You slut!" Jack says, pointing an accusatory finger at me.

"How does that make me a slut?"

"You were at his place for _breakfast_ and you've only known each other a week? That shy, reserved, afraid thing was all just an act, wasn't it?"

I scowl. "No! We were running one morning and he made me breakfast when we were done."

"Whatever," Jack says, settling into his cup of coffee as Jen has settled into hers. "Pacey! Make me breakfast!"

Pacey looks over at me. "What do you want for breakfast, Jo?"

"I'm good with cereal," I say, earning another look of scorn from Jack.

"Well, what the lady requests…." Pacey says, looking at Jack with a helpless shrug.

"Well, I'm a lady just like her and I request French toast."

"You're not a lady 'just like her'."

"I've kissed you, haven't I?"

"Not to be brought up _ever_ _again_." Pacey says to him. He turns to me with sort of a charmingly desperate look on his face. "He never really kissed me."

"That hurts, Pacey. That really hurts." Jack says, dramatically placing his hands over his heart. "That you would deny it. I may be wounded forever."

"Okay, okay. If French toast would shut you up, it would be worth it." Pacey rises and begins looking through cupboards and whatnot.

"Pacey sleeps naked," Jack supplies to me, thinking Pacey is occupied.

"Jack!" He cries, not occupied enough to miss the slip of information.

"I know," I tell Jack, earning a chuckle from Pacey and another shocked look from Jack.

"You _slut_!"

"Well, Jack, you're a whore, and if you don't shut up I'm going to put you to work." Jen says finally. He looks at her with a dropped jaw.

"I didn't let you get me out of bed to treat me like this."

"You guys are _loud_." Andie says, appearing at the entrance to the kitchen rubbing her eyes. "You woke me up."

"Good, welcome to _my_ world." Jack says. "It wasn't_ me_ that insisted we stay at _Will's house_ until almost three in the morning!" He protests, his voice going hilariously high when he mentions Will's name, earning a looking of contempt from Jen. "And it certainly wasn't me that insisted we get up at this medieval hour!"

"Well, it _is_ ten o'clock." Andie mutters, going to pour herself a cup of coffee and giving a dismayed little stomp when the coffee pot only yields a swallow or two. "Jack, make me coffee!"

He grumbles, but gets up to do it without complaint. It's my understanding this is some sort of an inside joke between the siblings, and I've left it alone.

"Hey, Pacey." Andie says, leaning heavily on the counter as Jack begins making her coffee, albeit loudly banging things around to do so.

"Hey," he says, tossing the word over his shoulder. "Haven't you guys ever heard of vanilla extract?"

"I think so. It's in every respectable dessert," Jen says. "It should be in that cupboard to your left somewhere."

"I thought you only made someone breakfast after you had sex with them," Andie says, rather comically. "So _why_ are you catering to Jack?"

"Funny," he says. "Since Jack already made a similar joke."

"Oh, Pacey, you know that everyone wants to get into your pants. Don't be grumpy about it," Jen adds to the conversation.

"You know, I _could_ be taking a nice, long walk up the beach with my _girlfriend_ right now." He grumbles good-naturedly.

"Aw, Pace, it must be hell to be somewhere that everyone in the room adores you." Andie says. "I'm sorry we're making it so hard on you."

"You should be."

"Oh, Pace?" I say. "It's actually too cold for a walk up the beach right now anyway, so this is working out okay."

"Funny, Potter. Why don't you get your ass out of the chair and help me?"

"All I requested was cereal. Jack should be the one helping you."

Jack is just hitting start on the coffee machine as I say this, and Pacey turns to Jack with a bowl in his hands. "She's right, man. Here. Beat this. It's more constructive than other things you beat."

"That's funny," Jack says. "Especially coming from you, the king of wh—"

"All right!" Jen says, loudly bringing their conversation to a halt. "Enough! Focus more on my French toast, please."

I sit back, nursing my coffee in both hands, and watch the interaction between the old friends, wondering what it would be like to be a part of something like that, wondering what it would be like to have a million inside jokes and to just be sarcastic with someone all the time. I wonder what it would be like to grow up with someone and still come out of it friends, but I guess that's something I'll never know, right?

Pacey turns around and folds his arms against his chest to look at me across the room. Finally, he points an index finger at me and hooks it towards himself, motioning for me to come to him. I set my coffee down and do as I'm requested, and he pulls me into an embrace.

"So, think you can handle French toast again?"

I smile. "As often as you want to make it for me." I hope the comment doesn't make me too forward. I'm sure my earlier bravery is just taking its sweet time wearing off.

He smiles brightly as well, catching my meaning. "Well, we _do_ have a date tonight, you know."

"Do we? I thought you might want to cancel it and stay in."

"No. I want to go on the date and then take you back to my place. You know, for _coffee_."

"And a little pokey-pokey." Jack says, breaking our private moment. "You are aware we can all hear your conversation, right?"

"We're also aware that you're the only one desperate enough for action to listen in," Pacey shoots back immediately.

"Not true," Andie says, raising her hand.

"You don't get to be desperate for action," Jack says. "Because you're my sister. You know, the virgin locked up in the tower waiting for Prince Charming."

"This isn't a tower," I say to him pointedly. "And the doors aren't locked."

"It was hypothetical!" He says. "Can't you just play along with me?"

"As I recall, Prince Charming took her right out on your very driveway, beneath your bedroom window, when she was sixteen." Jen says. "In the backseat of a car."

"Don't call Pacey Prince Charming. He doesn't need another ego boost," I say, turning around to face him, taking in his shocked expression. "I believe your title is Captain…what was it again?"

The room erupts in laughter, Pacey kisses me (I think just to shut me up), and I realize that not only will I have the chance to be part of a group like theirs I already am a part of it. In a way, I am growing up with them, and they make me feel right at home.

"Hi, Pace." I hear Andie's voice floating in through the open window, although I can't see either one of them.

"Hi." Pacey says simply, a smile in his voice. "Why are you all dressed up?"

"Oh, Jen's fling set me up on a date with one of his friends," she responds. "It wasn't fun and I ended up walking home from Will's house."

"I'm sorry." Pacey says, the words sounding a little flat, as if he hadn't really known what else to say but had taken it upon himself to fill the silence anyway.

"It's okay," she says. I can hear her shoe scuffling against the concrete of the driveway and I frown. "There's something I wanted to ask you."

"Shoot."

"Well, it's just…lately, I've been having these…I guess I could call them wonderings."

"That isn't a question."

"You're right. It's a lead-in. And you hate those. I'll try to be direct."

"Please," he says, not sounding unlike he's begging.

"If I thought that I was still in love with you, could we try again?" She asks, sounding sweet and hopeful all at once. I fight an inner battle. Should I go out there, just moments after he and I said goodbye? Just moments after we ended what we both agreed was a pretty fun date? Or should I let him fight this battle and see what happens?

It's a funny thing, when you begin to really trust another person without even realizing it. While I'm debating with myself, I can hear his answer. Although I decide not to go outside, I do sit on the couch right next to the window instead of the one across the room, all the better to spy on them.

"Oh, Andie," he says slowly. "No. I'm with Joey now."

"Well, that's just a summer fling and we both know it."

"We do? I wasn't aware of it." His voice drops and I can barely make out the following words. "I'm aware she's leaving at the end of the summer, yes. But I don't know if that's going to be the end of things."

"Of course it will, don't be so naïve," Andie says with a small laugh. "She's going back to school at the end of the summer. What are you going to do, follow her?"

He sighs. "Maybe."

I scowl. I wasn't aware his feelings ran quite this deeply. He's considering coming back to New York?

"Look, Andie, I don't know what will happen with me and Joey. Hell, I don't even know what's happening with me half the time. But I can certainly tell you that nothing will happen with us, ever again. I just…I got over you." He sounds somewhat helpless and in despair. "I think it's probably time you did the same."

"Do you think I haven't tried?" She asks.

"Whether or not you've tried, you obviously haven't succeeded, and I can't keep doing this. Because it's over. It's been over for years." His voice is taking on a tired, frustrated edge and I wonder if it would be better for him if I did go out there.

Jen and Jack are coming down the hallway, and I scramble back to my original couch so no one knows I'm eavesdropping. "It's not that bad."

"Please, Jen. It's fire engine red. That just screams 'take me now'." Jack says, his tone pleading. "And I love you like my sister, and I don't want to see you in that."

"That's very sweet, but I'm going to slap you." She says as they emerge from the hall. "Hi, Joey."

"Hi." I say. "What's fire engine red?"

"My underwear," Jen says unabashedly. "Jack thinks I should go with something a little more understated for my non-date with Mr. Krudski."

"I'm not an expert," I say simply. "I though black was more of a desperate color than red, though. That's what Bessie always told me." I shrug a nonchalant shoulder.

"I think you just shouldn't go on said non-date with Mr. Krudski. He's a player."

"Back up, Jack. Maybe _I'm_ the player in this scenario."

"Whatever." Jack rolls his eyes and looks over at me. "We have to go up the street. Wanna come?"

"Um, no." I say. "Pacey's supposed to call me when he gets home, but maybe I'll catch up with you later."

"Maybe I'll come back and get you later out of desperation for actual human contact," Jack says, tossing a sarcastic glance my way. "Bye."

"Bye!" Jen says brightly as they head out the door.

I sigh. I hear all four voice outside, muffled by the slight breeze coming off the water, and sink back in my chair. Andie comes trudging in, barely managing to conceal a face full of tears, and doesn't even say hello as she bypasses me and goes straight to her room. I rub my eyes and let them close for just a minute, when a timid knock on the door disturbs me. I get up and open it, and can't conceal my surprise that Pacey is there. He looks extremely weary and slightly upset. "Hey," I say simply. "I thought you went home." I decide that treading lightly is probably the best way to handle this.

"I didn't make it out of the driveway." He says simply, falling against me. "I need a hug."

I bite my bottom lip and give him the respite he seeks. "You just got one. Any particular reason you couldn't make it to the end of the driveway without another?" I'm surprised that I can make my voice this soft, this intimate. I never realized that was possible before.

He sighs. "Andie approached me, and says she still has feelings for me and wants to get back together."

Although I knew this much, that doesn't stop me from pulling away in shock and scowling up at him. "She what?"

He gives a small, unhappy chuckle. "Yeah. I'd say this happens on the average of every six months since we broke up. She just won't let it go, and it's really starting to wear me out."

I look at him honestly. "I heard part of the conversation," I admit, wanting to be nothing but open with him.

"You did?" He looks at me with wide eyes. "Why did you act so surprised a second ago, then?"

"It was like feeling the shock of it all over again." I say, bowing my head. He tips my face back up to him.

"So you listened in, but you didn't come out?"

"No," I answer, and I sigh. "I didn't really think it was my place. I mean, whatever is happening or has happened in the past between you two isn't any of my business. It doesn't involve me, and I thought I should stay out of it." I clear my throat. "I'm sorry for even eavesdropping."

"You don't have to be sorry. Just don't let her corner me ever again." He gives me a sly smile, and I let him take me back into his arms. He rocks us back and forth playfully.

There has been one other question hanging over me. "So, you don't think this is just a summer fling?" I ask eventually, once the rocking to and fro has died down and we've just held one another for a while.

"You heard that too?"

"Yeah," I admit slowly.

He sighs. "I just…it's like with every touch or every kiss, every minute we spend together, I feel like I want it to last longer. I don't want it to end, and I think that I'm still going to feel that way at the end of the summer, you know?"

"I know," I confirm. "But we can figure all that out later. We don't have to do it now, remember? We agreed to let this just be what it is."

"That we did." He pulls away with a small smile. "So…I'm not going to be able to fall asleep for a while yet, no matter what time I have to wake up. Wanna come back to my place?"

"For some _coffee_?" I tease.

"Or for some serious making out, whichever you prefer."

"Let's start with coffee and go from there."

"Tease."

"Lecher," I respond in kind with a laugh of my own.

"Is that a no?"

"Let me change into pajamas and then we can go." I say, not giving him the dignity of an actual affirmative answer. He chuckles and shakes his head at the diversionary tactic. My pajamas were already in the bathroom, just waiting for me to change into them. I had come out to grab the forgotten toothbrush when I heard Pacey and Andie talking outside. For a moment, I debate taking my running clothes with me and just returning on our morning jog tomorrow. I'm not sure how prudent it would be to spend the night with him just yet.

I pull my pajamas on quickly and pull the door open, hoping he's paying enough attention to come chat with me while I finish getting all but ready for bed. When I say all but ready for bed, I mean that I want to be prepared in case I fall asleep even though I'm aware it's highly unlikely. Unfortunately, I hear him chatting casually with Audrey when I pull the door open.

"So just like that?" She says.

"Just like that," he confirms brightly. "But now I'm just sort of wondering where she is."

I frown. What is it about tonight and me overhearing conversations about me? I really don't like it. It makes me more uncomfortable than mushrooms on my pizza, or the thought of Pacey seeing me naked. I shake my head at my own stupidity. I'm sure those two things are on the same level.

"I'm sure she's on the same page," she says, a note of sympathy in her voice.

"I'm not." He sighs. "It's just that she doesn't know which page she is on, and I'm willing to wait for her to figure it out. As long as she'll let me hang out with her while she does."

I lean forward on my hands, my arms pressed out straight down to the counter. I take a good look at myself in the mirror. Everyone around me seems to have such a firm grasp on their feelings, and their expectations for things. Why can't I get a grip on these things?

I frown at my reflection. Have you ever stared at your name so long on a page that the letters, as a combination, don't make sense? All of a sudden they become just letters, out of alphabetical location, sitting on a page. I'm starting to feel that way about my own face. It doesn't make sense anymore. I used to look at it and just think that was my face, without really stopping to think about it. But as these changes take place on the inside, I wonder if there shouldn't be some sort of a physical change, too. Why would my face look the same if I feel like an entirely different person?

I sigh, sinking back on to the balls of my feet. That's how it always is with change. On your birthday, you don't feel any older. No, feeling older comes sneaking up on you during moments you aren't looking for it. Kind of like love does.

"Hey, what's taking you so long?" Pacey says, knocking gently on the open door.

"Sorry," I say and duck my head as I reach for my brush.

"It's okay. I was just checking up." He moves into the room and closes the door behind him. Just as I reach the brush up to run it through my hair, he stops my hand gently. "Let me."

"Okay," I say, smiling softly at him in the mirror, and then hypnotized by his fluid, gentle motion as he begins to brush my hair out. The ocean wind and beach sun have done nothing for my hair, as it is usually extremely tangled at night. But his brush strokes only pull gently, taking the tangles with them from bottom to top. The look of concentration he wears is endearing, and I can see the adoration written all over my face as I watch him in dim reflection. Maybe something does change outside when something changes inside.

"Hey, are you taking forever or what?" Audrey says, knocking on the door abruptly enough that we're both startled. "The rest of us have dates to get ready for, too."

"We'll just be a minute," Pacey says calmly, the brush never breaking its stride through my hair.

"All right," she grumbles. "Come get me."

My eyes fall closed slightly, the feeling of someone treating me with such loving care relaxing me immensely. I sigh. "I love you," I say simply, the words slipping effortlessly from my mouth. I'm not sure where the words came from, only that it was somewhere very deep with a force great enough I couldn't have stopped them. My eyes fly open and look desperately for his to meet mine. I swallow down the heartbeat insistently pounding in my chest as I wait for his reaction.

His smile breaks open as his eyes meet mine in the mirror. "I love you, too."

Instantly, any lack of clarity, any conflicting feeling of confusion that I had left dissolves. It's like it's always been him and me, like it's always been the sweet simplicity we've always craved, and it's just there. The change is instantaneous; the air is a little sweeter around us, we're both a little warmer and a little more relaxed. He reaches around me for the ponytail holder I left sitting on the counter, pressing himself intimately to my back for just a second before he's back, smoothing my hair into a ponytail.

It takes this long before it really occurs to me to be even slightly embarrassed. I feel my face flush a furious tone of pinkish-red before I see it. I drop my head as he finishes the ponytail. "I'm…I'm sorry. I don't really know where that came from. Just all of a sudden…it came out of my mouth."

"You don't have to apologize." He moves away and begins gathering my things for me, neatly folding my jeans from their heap on the floor.

"No, I…" I sigh. "I don't regret it, it's just that…well, that changes a lot of things and I don't know if I'm quite ready for all that to change." I swallow and turn around to lean against the counter. "I just…maybe it's best if I keep those words to myself for a little while longer. Not take them back exactly, but have them be something precious between us, you know?"

He stands up straight and falls against me, not crushing me with his weight but bringing himself excruciatingly close to me. "Okay." He agrees. "We don't have to talk about it anymore. We can shelve the whole love conversation for now."

I reach up, tangling my fingers through his short hair, studying every inch of his face over and over again. "But don't forget it's there."

This smile is just as wide, just as warm, and just as endearing. "You, either."

I lick my lips and smile, mine warm and enticing like his. I can feel its warmth spreading up through my cheeks as I go up on tiptoe to kiss him. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pressing against him with a new energy and I let myself get lost in his kiss, his warm, sweet, and slightly disheveled kiss. He pulls my bottom lip in, sucking on it gently as he tilts his head slightly to press his tongue into my mouth. He leans a little more, so I bend backwards slightly over the counter and I hear another impatient knock.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to get ready and this is the only open bathroom, and…" Audrey flings the door open, and we both look over at the interruption. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Pacey says a little breathlessly. "We're heading to my place anyway."

"Okay," Audrey says amiably. Pacey motions that he's carrying my clothes back out to the living room closet, where most of my luggage has taken up permanent residence. I nod to him and turn to her. "So…" she says, closing the door behind us. "It looks like things are getting immediately serious with him."

"I don't know if I would say serious, exactly," I say evasively, although I'm sure I look like a deer caught in headlights.

"Well, he's the only one you spend any time with here." She narrows her eyes playfully. "And don't tell me you thought I haven't noticed we've been shopping the last two times without you. Every time I ask where you're at, the answer is a resounding 'with Pacey'."

I smile. "I know. But I'm still leaving at the end of the summer," I respond, the words leaving me a little emptier than before my rather abrupt admission. I feel my face pull into a frown. "So there's really no way for it to be serious."

"There's really only one way for it to be serious, and that's the feelings. See, if you don't have any like me, then you don't have to worry about dumping summer flings because they just don't mean anything. Somehow, I don't think that's your situation with our favorite sailor."

"Speaking of our favorite sailor, I better go out there before my ride sets sail," I say pushing away from the counter and heading out of the room. "Have fun on your date."

"I hope it was better than the first two today." She mutters to herself as I throw a good night wish her way and close the door so she can get ready. Pacey is sitting on the couch, reclined back easily, waiting for me.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Ready," he confirms, stands up, and starts heading toward the door. "I thought you might need a little girl chat."

I shrug. "Audrey says that she thinks we're pretty serious."

He watches me carefully. "And what do you think?"

"I think that I'm sick of the relationship diagnosis for today," I say, linking my arm through his and resting my head on his shoulder. "I just want to hang out with you for a while and take it easy."

"Fair enough," he says. "To be honest, it's been an awful lot for one day."

"Yeah," I agree. I breathe in the smell of his cologne, or it could be his aftershave, or some combination of the two. It's light and clean, but warm and inviting. I love how the smell of him rubs off on me when we go out, so that when I get home I have a constant reminder of him. I've decided it helps me sleep better, because that couch is definitely not comfortable. He opens my door for me and helps me into the truck, and just as he's getting in the driver's side, we see Andie's face through the living room curtains. I sigh and look over at him. "You don't ever look at her and think of what might've been?"

"No." He says, not missing a beat as he backs out of the driveway. "The thing with relationships is that it's not worth it to focus on what might've been, because it was what it was. There isn't a way to go back and change it, and in this case, there aren't any lingering feelings that would make me want to revisit the way any of that made me feel." He begins driving forward and rests his hand on my knee. "Besides, she does this every time she sees me dating someone new. She kind of freaks out for a while, but she always gets over it and moves on. I guess she doesn't have the same opinion of relationships that I do. But for me, they're over when they end. I usually don't care to revisit them later."

I nod in false understanding. All I can do is pretend, because I don't have enough experience to actually understand. I can't imagine not feeling this way about him forever, even though I know how it's going to end already. I want to feel this way forever, and I think if it's okay with him, I might just hold on to it. "So she's seen you with lots of other people?"

He chuckles. "Well, yes and no. I haven't been in an actual relationship since she and I broke up, but girls have kind of come and gone. She hasn't witnessed it much while I've been down here, but she did our senior year of high school, and for the summers in between. Jen usually brings Andie and Jack down every summer." He clears his throat. "This is the first year without the parents, though, so things are different now, but in more ways than just that." He looks over at me and smiles. I put my hand on top of his and look to the roadway, content enough with his answer to ride on in silence.

"So, can I get you anything?" He asks casually as I follow him onto the boat. "I have some beer, I have some coffee, and I have a bed."

I laugh lightly. "I think you're all I need for the moment."

"Well, well…is that flirting I detect? On only the second date?"

"It could be," I say vaguely. "What are you going to do about it?"

"About what? You being a brazen hussy for once?"

I stop confidently and turn around, stopping him effectively in the tracks he's been making. "Exactly how is flirting being a 'brazen hussy'? You just offered me your bed."

"But I'm such a slut," he says simply.

"I suppose that's true." I acquiesce. "At least from what I've heard, it's true. However, if you're willing to discount the fact that you're the only source I've heard this information from, I haven't heard a thing. It's true that guys tend to embellish their lothario."

Pacey shoots me a pointed look as he grabs me a bottle of water from the small fridge under the countertop. He tosses it over to me. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"I wouldn't exactly say _liar_."

"Well, then what exactly would you say?"

"I would say that most men are given to overstating their conquests." I clear my throat. "And I would also say that I doubt you're the exception."

"You're calling me a liar." He says, taking a beer from the fridge for himself after a solid minute of mulling over the beverage options. "I'll tell you what. You tell me your magic number, and I'll tell you mine. No bullshit."

I bite my lip, dragging my eyes up to him. "You honestly believe I have a magic number?"

"Having kissed your lips? Yes."

I swallow hard and look away, a little embarrassed and somewhat awkward at the admission. "You're wrong. My magic number is likely an imaginary number, because it has been debated that zero isn't a number at all." I toy with the lid on my water bottle, spinning it around and around, tightening and loosening, tightening and loosening. Finally, I swallow my pride, or whatever the exact opposite of pride is, and look up at him. "What's yours?"

"Are we talking strictly about sex? Or are we including sex acts that may or may not be defined as actual sex?"

"Huh?"

"What are we using for a defining basis of this number? The qualifications?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I hate to break it to you, but it won't change my number any. From kissing to things infinitely more complicated."

"Well, if we're talking about kissing, I have no idea. If we're talking more complicated….I can think of seven girls, off the top of my head."

"Seven?" I say, feeling a sinking, nervous sensation in my stomach. It was getting easier to be open around him, but I feel like my former shell is closing back in on itself.

"Yeah…" I know he can sense my reticence, because he draws the word out as he places his hand on mine. "To say I was in a bad place after Andie would be an understatement. She was my second, and I think the next five were spaced randomly through weekends and summers between then and now."

"When was the last one?" I ask quietly.

"About four months ago. New Years Eve," he says. He sighs. "Today has been really uncomfortable, hasn't it?"

I flash him a nervous smile. "Yeah."

His smile sweeps over me like a balm as he takes my hand in his and pulls me off the stool I was sitting on. "Come here." I comply as he pulls us both into the hammock that serves as his bed. I rest easily against him, periodically nursing my bottle of water. After a long silence, he speaks, his voice smooth and rich.

"Now this isn't so uncomfortable."

"No, this is okay," I admit. I turn my head into his chest a little more and breathe in that scent of his, the one that I usually walk away smelling on myself with a smile. The smell of him is burned into most of my clothes, sometimes into my skin, and I almost don't want to wash the clothes or take a shower, because I really don't mind it. I catch it at odd moments during the day, I think of him, and I smile.

"You know I don't expect anything, right? I mean…I like it. I like kissing you and touching you, but…I don't want you to think that I'm expecting something from you."

"Good. I honestly don't know what I'm ready to give." I sigh as I snuggle into him.

"You're already giving me what I need." He drops a kiss on my forehead. I turn my face up toward his.

"How am I doing that? I don't feel like I've done anything."

It's his turn to sigh. "Let's not talk about it right now. There will be a time and a place later for that conversation."

"Okay," I say simply, reaching up as much as I dare to kiss him gently. I don't want to throw the hammock off-balance, but for some unspoken reason, it feels important to kiss him. As a result of balance, I end up nearly on top of him, our bodies pressed flush together. His hands move over me easily, leaving trails of tingles in the wake of his fingertips, the trails blossoming into something more when his fingers brush the bare skin of my shoulder. I move my hands into his hair, my body moving somewhat with the gesture, surprised at the tingles, running deeper now, that shoot through all of me with the simple movement. Through the thin pajama pants, I can feel the hard lines of muscle in his thighs, and something else. Of course, I clinically know what an erection is and how it happens. I did take eighth grade health, after all. Bessie dragged me, kicking and screaming (literally), to maturation night. I, being an unwilling slave of the Cape Cod School District, was forced to take a repeat of the health class again my junior year of high school, at which point I was thinking 'Okay, I got it. Swear to god, I understand how this works. Can we be finished with this, please?' The mechanics of it, yes; the actual experience of it, not so much. While most girls were schooled under the bleachers or in their bedrooms, trying to keep hushed voices from reaching overly-concerned parents, I was schooled in textbooks only. Where most girls my age would be at least shirtless now, I'm catching up. I'm feeling the rushes, as overwhelming as they are, of all these firsts, with someone I genuinely care about.

He groans my name softly in my ear as I continue moving on him, reflexively in sort of an up and down motion, enjoying the way it feels tangibly as much as I enjoy all the other feelings of it. As he says my name, something else joins the tingles. Something warm, exciting, and almost pressing with need. Where the kiss was warm and happy, this is all that with a new level of daring, a new level of trust. It's a whole different kind of excitement brewing slowly inside me, washing away the conflict I've been feeling all day. I press my legs to either side of him, every intangible feeling intensifying as I feel his hands slip over my butt and up my back. He uses the leverage of hands to press into me further, and I begin to move over him faster, pressing as hard against him as experimentation will let me.

_Slow down_.

The words echo through me, barely registering. At first I don't heed them at all, but then they come again, a little louder and more insistent, followed by a wave of panic.

_Slow down_.

I sit up as much as I can and smooth some errant hair behind my ears. He holds me firmly on the thighs, both of us seemingly intent on staying pressed together so intimately, even with my drastic halt. "I'm sorry," I say, not recognizing my own voice. It's thick, filled with the raspy hint of desire.

His eyes slip closed for just a brief moment before he opens them and smiles brilliantly. "For what?"

I can't answer him. I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks in a steady rise. My first instinct is to scramble away from him, but the first lift of a leg is wrong, and quickly topples both of us over in the hammock, landing on the hard ground with a painful reversal of who was on top. Despite his best efforts to catch himself, I know knees knock and elbows bump and we both seem blindsided by the suddenness of it all. He pulls my shirt taught around my stomach, and gathers the bunch toward his stomach, as though he's trying to pull us closer together. It's achingly adorable. He leans down and plants a whisper soft kiss on my willing lips. We lose ourselves again, this time in a slow, easy kiss. I raise my hand to his cheek, feeling the five o'clock shadow that's starting to creep in. The texture of it adds to the moment, makes him feel even more real, if that's possible, and as he pulls away, I'm lost in the warm, inviting eyes that look over my face, as if he's trying to memorize every part of me before I'm gone, and somehow, I know that's exactly what he's doing. As I stare back at him, it's what I'm doing, too.


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: So sorry this has taken me so long. I've been distracted with Glee stuff for some reason, which is dumb because this story is complete. In the spirit of apology, this part is extra long. Grab a snack and get comfortable. Ha! Also, I won't change my mind and stop posting. I have the sequel partway done, too, and I'm anxious to get that up for you. I think this whole thing is gradually turning into a series of four stories. So I'll be at it for a while. Thank you for your patience, though! Please enjoy._**

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**In White Houses **

We fall into pace together, both having stumbled out of sleep in the hammock just a few minutes before. I can honestly say that sleep had only lasted a couple of hours, maybe a little less, before the cruel blast of Aerosmith from his alarm clock. We rose silently, changed privately from pajamas to running clothes, and went outside into the brisk morning air without saying much. It seemed like one of those well-oiled, well-established routines that we motioned through without so much as a squeak from one of the moving parts. Although, I guess I should mention that, upon closer inspection, I found a number of bruises from our fall last night, the largest of which occurred where Pacey's elbow accidentally collided with my hipbone. He mentioned, somewhere during the sleep-induced mumbling phase of our almost all-night conversation about random nothings, that his elbow hurt and was a little swollen.

The air outside isn't so cold these days, either. When it's cloudy or rainy, as it has been the past couple of days, the morning starts off much colder. But for the first morning in about a week, I don't shiver through my sweatshirt as I warm up.

"So what's on the Potter agenda for today?" He asks after we hit a comfortable stride, our tennis shoes sloshing in the soft sand just off the line where the tide is coming in now.

I take a moment, reveling in the suction cup sound of us running, the four footsteps sounding like two, only just an echo apart. Where else in the world would we be able to have this? A wave of gratitude washes over me for the briefest of seconds, before I return to the conversation at hand. "Well, I need some new flip-flops. Jack thought that one of them created an interesting opportunity for target practice at Andie while she was walking up the street and I'm afraid that the flip flop fell into a bush and was irretrievable. As a result, Jack has consented to take me shopping and has been coerced into paying for the new pair."

Pacey chuckles. "What is his fascination with throwing things?"

"I asked him that same question, as said flip flop sailed right past his sister's nose. He blamed it on the fact that his football career met an early and untimely demise."

"That's right. He dislocated his shoulder our senior year." His voice is laced with amused recall. "He's even more entertaining on Lortab than he is normally."

"So, if Jack was busy getting hurt and Andie was busy not getting over you, what did you and Jen do your senior year?"

He smiles as he glances over at me. "Funny you should ask about the both of us. Well, I had been roped into the drama club production of Barefoot in the Park my junior year by a cruel English teacher who was hell bent on making that the only available form of extra credit." He clears his throat. "There are some unfortunate things about success, and one of mine was that, my senior year, I was sucked entirely into drama if I hoped to be within a whisper of graduating."

"You weren't going to graduate?" I ask softly.

"I, uh, had some academic difficulties." He says, something about his demeanor changing a little. "So I spent my senior year doing various plays, and finally, writing one myself. That was really odd, but even moreso when one of my friends decided to adapt it into a movie. He wants to be a filmmaker and…it was like a direct flash of something I never wanted to do again, basically. The film won a few festival awards, and last I heard, it even secured him an acing grade in one of his classes at USC, but…I don't know. There was that, and then there was my casual sex pact with Jen."

"Your _what_?" I try not to sound shocked, but I do.

"Well, both coming off of excruciating heartbreaks and still being two sexually charged and active teenagers was sort of a conflict. I mean, we both wanted sex, but neither of us were getting it, and due to the relationship demises of recent history, with all due deference to our exes, neither of us wanted that kind of an emotional connection. We were looking for some sort of raw, untapped outlet of that sexual energy."

"Huh?"

"We theorized that, with nothing more than friendship between us, it would be possible and likely more fulfilling to engage in a sex-only sort of relationship. No love letters, no mixed tapes…just the two of us, having sex whenever the need arose."

"Yeah, that sounds absolutely amazing." My voice is dripping with sarcasm, and maybe a little jealousy and contempt. How would it be to have the kind of friends that would make themselves available like that?

"It would have been, if it had ever worked."

"What do you mean? It already sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Clever," he says, not entirely snidely. "Basically, it wasn't. It was fine, there were no effects on either of us…because we don't feel that way about each other. We weren't even capable of wanting to do it anywhere other than our imaginative conversations." He clears his throat. "So really just that and school plays."

I smile. "We really are cut from different cloth, Pacey."

"How so?"

"Academic difficulties, casual sex pacts, and a passing grade in drama?" I shake my head. "Oh, no. None of those things have ever been my forte. By all rights, I should have graduated early. I was finished with all of the district requirements by the end of my junior year, but I stayed on my senior year. I took all the AP classes I could fit into my schedule. I entered college as almost a junior. I've never found anyone interested in having sex with me, relationship strings attached or not attached, and I never even went to school plays, let alone participated in them."

He sighs. "Different cloth indeed. What would you say I am? Cotton?"

I laugh as I look over at him. Something strange has come over him with the trip down memory lane. He's not quite…I don't know how to explain it. He just isn't quite the same is all. "You're probably hemp…something people wear in protest, and something that is worth a lot more than some people believe at face value."

"Great. Woody Harrelson supports me. I suppose that should give my ego a boost."

"Definitely. I mean, he was a natural born killer and all." I wait for his short laughter to die down before I pose my question. "If anyone is cotton, it's me. Simple, cheap, and easy to come by."

"See, I disagree." He says. "I would say satin. Not quite as fancy as silk, but still beautiful and often overlooked. And if I had sheets…they would be made out of you."

"Only you could turn that line of questioning dirty," I say.

He takes a deep breath. "Okay, I have a new line of questioning for you."

"Okay."

"What are you doing on Friday and Saturday?"

I smile and look over at him, the sun now starting to come up. He's running to the east of me, and so I get a healthy dose of sunlight right in the eye and blink a few times to dispel the purple dots. "I guess that depends on what you're doing."

"Well, that filmmaker friend I mentioned is coming out from USC. He's actually been at home with his parents, but he wants to come and spend a couple of days here before he heads back for summer semester."

I scowl in slight confusion. "And this would include me how?"

He lets out a sigh that sounds long-suffering. "I've been told my loyalty is one of my worst qualities."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It will when you meet Dawson." He lets out quietly, under his breath. "I think he's basically an okay guy…he's a little condescending, somewhat self-absorbed, and extremely sheltered and naïve. I think that a lot of times, he uses me to make himself feel better about his own life."

"How so? Your life isn't that bad."

"You didn't know me in high school. Let's just say that I have self-esteem issues and leave it at that. And I know that he is at least partially responsible for that."

"Hey, Pacey?" I say, not really liking the flat tone in his voice.

"Yeah?"

"I'll tell you what. I may not know everything that you've been through. I may not be the best judge of character, because I am sheltered and naïve in my own way. But I think you're a quality person."

He smiles honestly at me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. The other thing is, I will go with you and do whatever you want, but I don't know that I'm going to be entirely comfortable around someone who makes you feel that way about yourself. So don't be surprised if I say something."

"I would be surprised. You're probably the shiest person I've ever met."

I chuckle. "I've also been told I'm sarcastic, overbearing, and that I should think before I speak. All compliments of my lovely older sister, by the way, who knows me way too well. It was just easier to keep my mouth shut for a lot of years than to try futilely to dispel all the rumors and trash talk that went on behind my back. It wasn't out of shyness; it was simply out of tiredness. I was tired of trying to impress people I didn't care about anyway."

"So I should take it as a compliment that you speak to me at all, then?"

"Exactly," I say. "You're putting the pieces together, and it only took a couple of weeks. I'm so proud."

"One of these days, I'm going to throw you into the ocean if you keep up all this sweet talk."

"If I go in, you're going in with me."

He looks me up and down, as if he's sizing me up. "I don't think you could take me."

"Hey, I might look small, but I've got guns."

"I hope you don't mean literally, because that's illegal and it would shatter my whole goody-two shoes, rule-abiding notion of you."

"No, I mean figuratively. I used to lift weights."

"_Used_ to?" He gawks at me a little bit. "So now all you do to work out is running, and you're trying to tell me you could kick my ass?"

"I'm not trying anything. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Just as long as you don't go trying any funny business."

"You weren't complaining about the funny business last night."

"But I am this morning," he groans. "I've got bruises to show for that little impromptu flip off the hammock."

"You and me both," I admit. "I'm older than I used to be."

"I know what you mean," he says wryly. "I may have to start dragging out the mattress I lifted from my brother's house. I can sleep out on the deck when it's a little warmer."

"You have a mattress, but you sleep in a hammock?"

"More comfortable. And a little more space-friendly. In case you haven't noticed, the boat isn't exactly a den of vast square footage."

"I haven't noticed. You seem to forget that you're speaking to a girl whose current residence is the couch."

"Well, now, if we were more in that sort of a place, I would offer my own residence to you."

"But we're not and we've just covered your lack of living space as it is. Wouldn't it be worse if I were taking it over?"

"I doubt it. Other than being tall, you don't take up a whole lot of space."

"Oh, way to step on two insecurities at once there, big boy. It's amazing you get any action from me at all."

"I do?" He teases lightly. "When?"

"Don't make me dump you on the floor again."

"I won't make you. In fact, I'll beg you not to do it again."

I sigh, having reached a point of contentment with our back and forth. I look ahead at the vast expanse of beach, covered in the glowing sunrise. It really is a beautiful sight, the sunlight beginning to reflect off the water, the hovering sea gulls around. It won't be long now before they fly north for the summer. Traitors.

"What are you thinking?" He asks.

"Are you the girl or am I?" I shoot back. He sends me a dangerous look of warning, laced with a promise to dump me in the ocean. "I was thinking that this sunrise is beautiful, and I can't think of anyone I would rather be sharing it with."

"Well, I think it's been proven right there that you're the girl then, because I was thinking how marvelous your breasts look in that sweatshirt."

"Way to wreck a nice moment of silence," I say sullenly, although it's just in fun.

"Hey, I try." He shrugs easily. "The way I see it, silence is of the devil."

"So you should be right at home with it, claiming kinship and all."

"Are you calling my parents the devil?"

I consider this for a moment, knowing the precious little he's really told me about his strained relationship with his family. "It's possible."

"Well, if you are, then I think I'm definitely in love," he says.

I look over at him, caught off-guard, even in this realm of sarcasm where anything is possible. If I'm not mistaken, he entered some territory that was just roped off with that yellow police tape and heavily labeled "caution". The same piece of territory with a big "no trespassing" sign. Trespassers will be executed upon their arrival.

He seems to realize his Freudian slip and jogs ahead in silence, facing forward. Neither of us says anything about it. I can only speak for myself when I say that it isn't as if the words make me uncomfortable, it's just…it throws me into a suspended moment of brief and unavoidable thought. I've heard, specifically, I've read a lot of pontifications of what love is, according to many great minds in the world. I'm not sure they know any more than I do when it comes to matters of the heart, though. Somehow, even despite the fact that I've only been in a church when my mother died, it's the passage in 1st Corinthians that speaks most to me. I remember the pastor offering it when my mom died, and remembered thinking that it embodied, to me, every good thing about her. To me, she was the encapsulated memory of the only love I would likely ever know. Of course, that was the forlorn thinking of a child who thought she was left to a father who didn't know her, didn't care to protect her from the harsh realities of the world, didn't even care enough to stay with his family the night his loving wife died. To me, at that point, love was something I really stopped looking for, counting on, or even wanting. Maybe that's why I'm left so shell-shocked at this juncture in my life. I've never tried to define love, so I've never stopped to recognize that I already had it in my life.

My sister is the new embodiment of love for me. All she wants to do is protect me, to keep me from making the same mistakes she has. She wants me to keep my bright, shiny future in tact, and she wants me to stay focused on that singular goal. She doesn't seem to care, nor has she ever, that really that goal was one and the same with the fact that when those dreams are realized, she will be left behind. Will I ever stop loving her or returning home from time to time to see the life she's living? No, I will always do both those things. But at some point, I'm on my own. At some point, it's just me. I think she wants to make sure I have everything I need when that day comes.

I look over at Pacey, and I think back to the pastor's words at that funeral. _L__ove is always patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own ways; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. _(1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

It seems a little backwards for me, where it would be normal for a good many people. I'm considering the Bible when it comes to a life question? But for whatever reason, that passage has stuck with me, especially related to my mom. I remember hearing that pastor talk, and remember thinking that if it meant I would waste all of those virtues on a person who was willing to cheat on me, very much in public, and while I was dying, that I didn't even want to possess the ability to give that to someone, to share that with another person. For a brief bitter moment, cloaked in the unlabeled anguish of losing my best friend, I didn't even understand how it would be possible.

Looking at Pacey, I don't feel that way anymore.

"I hate to say it, but I think this is where I turn back," he admits, slowing rounding in front of me and coming to a stop.

"I hate for you to say it, too," I say, casting my glance downwards as if he'll catch a guilty spark in my eye.

"Well, I'm halfway through the week. Just a couple more days before the weekend."

"I know," I say, letting him draw me in closer to him. "But somehow a couple of days seem like forever."

He kisses my very sexy, slightly sweaty forehead. "I'll call you when I get off work?" Although it sounds like a statement, he phrases it hopefully in the form of a question.

"You better." I smooth my hands over his shoulders and rest my wrists there, my hands dangling in the cool ocean breeze as he presses himself against me.

"Hopefully you'll be done shopping."

"I'll make sure of it," I say. He leans down smoothly to plant a kiss on me, and no sooner does he brush my lips with his own warm, soft touch, than an unexpected voice pulls us apart.

"Hey, this is a public beach, you know."

"Kruddi, what are you doing up this early?" Pacey questions, frustration evident in his voice.

"It's actually why I'm up this _late_." He scratches the back of his head. "Something about a roommate free house last night and my current lady luck…but said roommates were supposed to start trickling in any second, booting the lovely Mr. McPhee off of the couch." He shoots a sideways glance at me. "I guess she wasn't that far off the mark."

"No, I'm almost home," I agree, looking again at Pacey.

Pacey sighs. "Yeah, I really need to get going. I already waited as long as I could to turn back."

"Okay." I say, shooting him a gentle, sleepy smile.

"Want me to wait?" Will asks, slightly impatiently. I'm guessing he didn't sleep much last night. He's probably anxious to get to bed.

"Not really," Pacey says.

"Ouch, man." Will says. He shakes his head a little. "You know, I haven't seen much of you lately." He glances obviously at me.

"I've been busy. This is actually still the case. But I could call you this weekend."

"All right, I'll catch up with you then." Will says and jogs off.

"Is everything okay with you and Will?" I ask, turning back to Pacey. His eyes are burning as he watches the back of Will's head retreating toward his house.

"Ummm….yeah." He says, shaking his head. "We can talk about it later, but I really have to run. I'm going to be late as it is."

"Okay." I say, kissing him quickly enough that neither of us really feels it. "Go."

"Wrong," he protests, moving down and placing a real, solid kiss on my lips. He pulls away, punctuating that with several more short smooches. "Bye."

"Bye," I say, slapping his ass as he turns to run away. He shoots a glance over the shoulder at me, another look smoldering with the promise that I will end up in the ocean, flat on my ass, someday soon.

I jog to the house, finding Jen at the table nursing a cup of coffee. She looks like walking dead, probably from staying up all night, but she still smiles brightly at me as I pull the door closed.

"Jen!" I say in surprise. "I'm really beginning to cherish these early morning chats and all, but I wouldn't mind if you went to bed at night."

Jen chuckles. "I know, I know. You wouldn't think the summer vacation would be time to start getting up early."

"So why are you up?" I grab myself a mug, noting that it's the last clean one. I smile to myself. It's Jack's turn to do dishes. I fill the mug with coffee, still steaming, and settle into the chair across from her at the table.

"Will just left." She sighs. "Am I a bad person?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"I just…I just spent the night with him, right? It was like, the fourth time we've hung out, and I had sex with him, just like that. I watch you and Pacey…and it's just different. I don't have any sort of feelings for Will. As a matter of fact, I know he made daytime plans with some girl at the party last night. I just don't care. I gave it up to him anyway."

"Well, if you're asking me if that was a mistake, you have to remember that you and I aren't exactly on the same playing field. When it comes to experience, I have none."

"But you haven't given it up to Pacey yet." She eyes me suspiciously. "Have you?"

"No." I say, tracing the faded lettering on the side of my mug. "He hasn't exactly been pushing me about it, though." I raise my eyes, guarded somewhat, to her to gauge her reaction.

"Do you want him to push you?"

"I'm just not sure I'll do it without the pushing."

"But you want to?"

I sigh. Her direct questions aren't doing anything to help me. "Part of me does, but part of me is scared. I'm not the best when it comes to new things. They usually terrify me so much that I don't step out and do them."

"Okay, well, you don't want to do that with sex. You want to make sure that all parts of you are equally ready for it, or it'll just be messy. Especially if there are feelings involved. It's proportional. The more feelings involved, the more risky it is."

"Well, the element of risk isn't what's scaring me. The thing is, we know how this is going to end. He might say that he's considered going to New York at the end of the summer, but anyone that knows him knows the truth. He's happy here, probably happier than he's ever been, and he isn't going to leave yet. In other words, we know it will end regardless of what physical level we reach with each other."

"You're right, you know what's going to happen with the relationship, which is an unusual form of security to have. The variable is what's going to happen to you. You don't know what will happen to you emotionally if you have sex with him. If you aren't ready, there are all kinds of things it could do to you."

"I know."

"Pacey will not push you," Jen says directly. "You may like the fact that he challenges you and he seems to know you well, but he will never push you because he has seen the devastating toll that sex takes on a relationship if it's too soon. He will never be the one to push for it, because the relationship is more important to him."

"So what do I do?"

Jen smiles. "You're asking me for advice on this subject? I slept with Will last night, and we're not even dating."

"I'm asking you for advice on this subject because you have advice to give."

"Just follow your heart. It won't lead you astray. You just have to learn the difference between the scared little voice in the back of your head, the one that will always doubt and will never trust, and your heart. Your heart has a different voice."

"I think my heart forgets to say anything when he's kissing me," I admit, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Yeah, that's the third voice you have to drown out. Sometimes it's the loudest one of all."

I smile and drink more of my coffee. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, a fourth voice is telling me that love is patient, kind, and long-suffering. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I already know exactly what I'll be ready to give him before this summer is over.

Pacey pulls away from our kiss just long enough to speak. "Dawson will be here…any minute…" he says, rather breathlessly, seeking out small kisses in between his words.

I can't think, I just run my hands over his shirt roughly as he smoothes his over my back.

"We should…stop this." He says. "It's insane, really…the fact that we...can't keep our hands off each other."

Jack appears casually in the living room, tossing a magazine on the coffee table. "No, what's curious is the fact that you're all but having sex on the couch in the middle of the afternoon when everyone else is home."

"You're just jealous," Pacey mutters carefully, his voice not sounding unlike a dangerous growl.

"Damn straight." Jack says simply. "I go to the supermarket, I go to the liquor store, and I go to the parties…for what? For nothing. I go for the heterosexual eye candy, apparently, because that's all I'm getting." He flops down on the far end of the couch, and I look to Pacey. I slowly disengage myself from his form and take a more proper place on the center cushion, leaving Pacey to scramble for a pillow to place over his lap.

"Hey, don't bother man. Nothing I haven't seen before." Jack says. He looks at Pacey with a wry grin. "Come to think of it, now all five roommates have seen it."

"I haven't," I say.

Jack leans to look at me. "A fact that could change with a moment's notice, sweetheart." I glare at him as he continues speaking. "So when does Dawson get in?"

"Any moment now."

"And why was it you saw fit to tell the asshole where we live?"

"Jack!" Jen says, her voice sounding scandalized as she appears in the living room. "That's film-nerd mega-asshole to you."

"Guys, I'm still friends with him," Pacey says, sounding slightly uncomfortable. "And Joey hasn't met him. I think she'd probably like to form her own opinion."

"I'm neutral on the subject, really." I say, picking an invisible piece of lint off his button down shirt. Oh, and have I mentioned blue really is Pacey's color? His shirt is a dark, rich navy, making the light tan color of his corduroy shorts stand out starkly. That combined with his tan, muscular legs, and I've got some heterosexual eye candy of my own.

He covers my hand with his, moving the pair to his lap, and I know it's to control my nervous gestures. He's always doing that, moving my hands or stilling them when I start acting nervous.

Jen puts her hands on her hips. "Jack! We're leaving!"

He frowns as he looks down at himself, dressed in what we call summer chic. That translates to a grey tank top, which just for those of us keeping track, is going on its ninth day of wear and tear without a washing, and a pair of black sweatpants that read Harbor High School #68 on the left side in front of the pocket. According to Jack, he really wanted #69, but a wisecracking senior had taken that a few years before, only for his jersey to be retired when he was drafted in the NFL a year out of high school. "We are?"

"Remember?" Jen says impatiently. "We had a date tonight?"

"We did?"

"Yes, we did," she says, shaking her head. "And we were going to go on our date, and then meet up with them later on at Beach Front."

Jack gives a put-upon sigh before he reaches a hand up in the air. "Help me up."

"You are perfectly able-bodied at the moment. Do you want to risk me pulling your arm out of the socket?"

"Not really," he mutters, bringing himself to standing. "Give me ten minutes."

"I'll do you one better than giving you ten minutes. I'm joining you." She says, pushing him toward their bedroom. I look over at Pacey before I swing my leg back over the other side of him, so I'm straddling him again. He doesn't seem to mind this idea and rests each hand on one of my thighs.

"Where were we?" I ask, placing a hand on his chin to tilt it up so he can accept my kiss. I can feel his fingers playing with the buttons on the pockets on the back of my cargo-style Capri pants. He's already untied both of the cuffs on the legs; I don't know why I would be surprised if he unbuttoned the pockets as well. Instead, he plays lightly with the buttons, his fingers randomly tickling me and sending chills up my spine. I sink down lower so I can rub against him. His eyes roll back in his head and he rests it back on the couch for a moment.

"I think you're going to kill me," he says simply.

"I don't know about that, but I have a challenge for you." He lifts his head and opens one eye.

"What's that?"

I lean down to whisper in his ear. "Before the night is over, I want you to teach me something new."

He raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Anything you want me to do to you. I'm very impressionable."

"I bet you are!" He says with unbridled enthusiasm, reaching up to kiss me hard. We're both so busy there, we miss the doorbell entirely. Grumpy Audrey comes out to answer the door.

"God! Do I need to have you two surgically removed from each other?" She says with a light tone of warning as she heads to the door. I look at Pacey, and he looks at me for a moment. I bite my lower lip as I swing off him again, having perfected that motion only moments before.

"You know what?" He says, looking over to me as Audrey greets Dawson. "I think privacy might not be a bad idea. Do you want to go sailing next weekend?"

I smile gently. I do need to at least put moderate effort into finding a summer job, but so far I've had no luck. Granted, all I've done is ask at the restaurants we've eaten at if they're hiring, but the answer has been a resounding no. Apparently, they're all staffed up for the summer beach crowds. "Sure."

"Pacey!" Dawson says. Pacey stands to offer him a man hug, where they don't actually bump chests but pound each other on the back as if were a real embrace.

"Hey, D." He says. He pulls away from the non-embrace and gestures to me. "This is Joey."

"Hi," he says amiably enough and reaches out to take my hand. I give it to him, figuring he's going to shake it, but he turns it at the last moment and kisses the back of it instead. I raise an eyebrow at Pacey, and I can tell by the look on his face that he knows I'm not necessarily impressed. "Any fling of Pacey's is a friend of mine," he says, his voice entirely smarmy. He turns to Pacey. "Not to be demanding, but I need food as soon as possible."

"That's the plan," he says, offering a hand to help me up off the couch. "Joey and I have just been waiting for you to execute it."

"Great." He says. "Is anyone else coming with us?"

"Uh, no." Pacey says. He sounds a little uncomfortable, and I immediately realize that Dawson probably doesn't know how everyone in this house really feels about him. "Jack and Jen are meeting us later for drinks, though."

"What about Andie?"

Pacey sighs. "She's holed up in her room. I've been assured numerous times that she's not going anywhere, specifically not anywhere I might be involved."

Dawson frowns. "I thought you guys were friends."

"It's tenuous at best," Pacey says, looking down the hall with hooded eyes. "And right now, we seem to be at an impasse."

"Well, that's no good," Dawson says glumly. "I was kind of hoping to see her during this trip."

Pacey shrugs. "So go see her. Her room is right there."

Dawson waves it off. "Nah, I'll just talk to her later." He turns for the door. "I'd rather see what's new with you."

Pacey takes my hand and I notice that, for as warm and tender as his touch was just a moment ago, now his grip is tight and cool.

"I thought you had a truck?" Dawson says, turning to Pacey as we head for the sidewalk, past the empty driveway.

"I do, but I thought we could just walk to the restaurant. It's just a little ways up the beach and it's finally starting to warm up outside."

"Okay," Dawson says amiably enough. "I can see your boat, too, yeah?"

"Yeah," Pacey agrees. Tension is radiating off of him in waves, and it's unlike anything I've seen from him. I frown in response as he glances at me, but he winks my frown away.

"So, Joey, what is it that you do?" Dawson says, falling back into step with the two of us. He was walking ahead of us for only a moment.

"I'm in school," I say simply.

"Are you in school down here or is this just a stop over for you?"

"This is more like a well-deserved summer vacation for me," I bite back. "I go to Columbia."

"Columbia. Wow, you are a long way from home."

"Not that far," I contest. Pacey squeezes my hand in warning.

"I'm in school, too. I don't know if Pacey mentioned it or not, but I'm a film student at USC. I just couldn't get away for a summer vacation this year." He rolls his eyes. "You know how it is."

"Well, obviously I don't, since I'm here," I slow-talk. Pacey shoots me a glare of death. He mouths _be nice_ under the oblivious gaze of Dawson's non-scrutiny.

I huff out a little breath, and I have to admit that it was kind of snotty of me. I guess I just don't like the fact that it seems as though, for being best friends with this boy, Pacey can't relax in his presence. It makes me sad, and a little irrationally angry.

"Oh, well, I'm sure when you've narrowed down your field of study, you'll understand. I just couldn't be away from it that long. I love it too much."

Now it's Pacey's turn to roll his eyes. I squeeze his hand back, trying to let him know that if I have to play nice, so does he.

"I've narrowed down my field of study," I say. "I'm studying English."

"Do you know what you want to do when you graduate?" Dawson asks right back.

"I'm not sure, but I think I want to be either an editor or a writer."

"A writer, huh?" He looks over me to Pacey. "That could work out."

"Work out for what, man?" Pacey says skeptically.

"Well, I'm always looking for someone to pen my next script." He shoots a wink at me. "What do you say?"

"Um, _tempting_," I begin. "But I want to be a novelist, not a screenwriter, and you're only here for two days. I just met you, so I'm not so sure right now would be the best time to form a business partnership. Maybe you should hire a writer. I've heard there are a lot of good screenwriters out there in California."

"Pacey has some experience in the area. I'm sure if you just polished his effort, it would come out great. That play you wrote had a nice, open ending. You could do a sequel."

"I'm happy with what I'm doing here."

"With what you're doing here," Dawson repeats, seemingly at a loss. "Okay, well, if you decide that you want a career, just let me know. Like I said, I could always do a sequel."

"Yeah, man." Pacey says.

"So what's new with you? Besides the little lady?" He turns to Pacey with a grin. "I haven't heard from you in a while, other than the occasional phone call."

I glare my hardest at Dawson, but apparently my super powers are starting to wear out, because he doesn't spontaneously combust. Pacey is dying to keep his forming grin in check, and he barely succeeds. "Not much. I'm still working at the marina." He snaps a finger and points at me. "Which reminds me, Jo, they need someone part time to answer phones, if you're interested. It isn't exciting, the pay probably isn't the best, but it's a job, and it's available. The temp agency girl that they hired on last month had her second no-call, no-show yesterday. I told them I had a friend who might be interested, but that she was just here for the summer. My boss said to send you in anyway, because it could at least buy some time for them to hire a permanent replacement."

"Okay," I say, shooting him a sweet smile and an agreeable nod. "I'll just come down there with you on Sunday, then."

"Good," he says, allowing his grin to expand. "Sorry, D. Just working at the marina and hanging out with Joey. That keeps me pretty much all filled up."

"So what about when she leaves?"

"I guess I'll find something else to do then, huh?" Pacey shoots back.

"Well, the whole random dating thing has to get old after a while. I don't know how you can do it."

"Well, sometimes it's better than the steady dating thing," he offers with another shrug.

"I've been dating the same girl since the start of fall semester," Dawson says proudly. "She's great. She wants to be a costume designer."

"Does she sew your clothes, too?" I ask. Pacey squeezes my hand again.

"No, but she did make me some new sheets."

"Satin?" Pacey asks, recalling our conversation from earlier in the week. He shoots me a sideways glance to see if I know what he's doing, and I smile. He's setting me at ease.

"No." Dawson says, looking both of us as it we're really strange. "Flannel." With that, we both crack up. Dawson attempts to laugh along, but stops suddenly. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry. Inside joke," Pacey says. "Anyway, you've been dating the same girl, yada yada…how's that going?"

"It's great." Dawson says with a sigh. "She's perfect, I think. She grew up not far from Pepperdine, and her parents are just like mine. Her dad owns a restaurant and her mom is a journalist. She's an only child, and she's in film school. We like the same movies, read the same books, eat at the same places…I think it's really important to be on the same social track as the person you're dating, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Pacey asks, clearly confused.

"I mean that you have to be on the same mental level to really communicate. And how else would be on the same mental level if it weren't for a similar background, a similar upbringing, and a similar level of education?"

"I think there are circumstances where opposites attract. If you're both the same, how would that make for an interesting relationship?" I contribute. Pacey looks at me as though he's proud. I said a complete, argumentative sentence around a new person. I'm arguing with Dawson.

"It certainly makes for a more stable one."

"And you know this on the basis of the one relationship you've ever had?"

"Pacey," Dawson says, turning his eye to him. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what, exactly?"

"That this was my first relationship."

"No, I said I wouldn't tell that you were a virgin."

"Being a virgin isn't necessarily a bad thing," I say.

"It just means that you were socially rejected in high school," Dawson snorts.

"Well, obviously you were then," I shoot back.

"Hey, hey now." Pacey says, laughing uncomfortably. "I didn't tell anyone you were a virgin, which I'm guessing is a moot point by now anyway, right?"

"Right," Dawson says.

"And I don't think being a virgin means you were socially rejected in high school." Pacey continues. "Look at me."

"I guess that's true," Dawson concedes.

I look over at him, curious why he just walked straight into an insult. I frown when he doesn't return my gaze, just continues staring straight ahead.

I decide to let my timidity kick in. They continue to discuss Pacey's life ad nauseum…Dawson's parents recently spoke with Pacey's parents, who desperately want Pacey to contact them, Dawson's parents miss Pacey, and so on. Basically it boils down to one thing: Dawson is a self-centered, spoiled brat. I don't like him.

We sit through the wait at the restaurant in silence, and it's only after we've been shown to a table, seated, and given drinks that anyone says anything.

"So, have you seen A.I. yet?" Dawson asks.

"No," Pacey says. "Not having a television sort of interferes with my movie-watching time once they leave the theater." He turns to me. "Dawson wants to be a director because he idolizes Steven Spielberg."

"I wouldn't say I idolize him," he says with a roll of the eyes. "I would say that I recognize his astounding talent and aspire to be that great myself."

"So what did _you _think of the movie, Dawson?" Pacey asks, turning the subject slightly, just enough that it's off of Dawson for the moment, at least.

"I thought it was a fabulous commentary on where the world is heading. I mean, it really delves into the philosophy of love and the dangers of rapidly advancing technology."

"See, then I don't really need to see it."

Dawson pauses as he takes a sip of his water. "Everyone should see it, if not only for the cinematic genius and the time well-spent, but for the thought-provoking nature of the subject material."

"If I want movies that will make me think, I'll read the book the movies are based on." I say dryly, drinking my own water.

They both look at me in surprise. I think Pacey is more surprised that I've actually spoken, but Dawson looks at me in full-on horror.

"How can you say that? Movies give us the opportunity to set visual effects to the things we read."

"I can say that because I have enough imagination that my visual effects are up here while I'm reading." I tap the side of my head. "Besides, you name a single book to film adaptation that stands up to the quality of the book."

"Jurassic Park," he says immediately.

"Please. The movie mixed up major facts about the main characters and focused more on the love story than was necessary. Yes, the dinosaurs as visual effects worked rather well, but the fact was that the movie will never stand up to the book because the very details that it diced up were what made the book worth reading in the first place."

"The Color Purple," he shoots at me.

"Toni Morrison is such a thought-provoking writer that you could never hope to capture the wonder of one of her stories on film. Sorry." I shrug. "The Color Purple was a decent movie, but all it did was want me read the book to see how the _real_ story went."

"Hamlet," he argues dully.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Hamlet wasn't a book, it was a play. They pretty much followed the script word for word. I'll give you Hamlet, if you wish."

"Pardon me; I need to use the restroom." Dawson says, looking almost wounded. He excuses himself gracefully.

Pacey turns to me. "Joey!"

"What? He knows I'm a literature major. And if he really knew anything, he'd know that Toni Morrison didn't write The Color Purple."

Pacey chuckles. "She didn't?"

"No, so there's a Spielberg film he doesn't know enough about. It was adapted from Alice Walker's novel." I finish the rest of my water, just in time for the busboy to refill it from the pitcher he's carrying around. "Pacey, I don't like him."

"Why?"

I sigh. "You're all different and tense when you're around him, and he's so condescending. He's just like the people where I grew up. I guarantee if he knew anything about where I came from, he would judge me just as harshly, and just as wrongly, as he judges you."

"I don't know that he judges me, exactly," Pacey says, scratching his chin.

I let out a huffy breath. "When you want a real job, when you want a real girlfriend, when you can stop dating people who are out of your league…" I tick these off on my fingers to emphasize my point.

"I think that was more of a compliment to you."

"I think you're delusional."

"I think I'm horny." He shoots back immediately, leaning closer to me.

"I think I am, too." I say quickly before he kisses me. He breaks away from the prolonged embrace and looks around awkwardly, as if he had the sudden realization we are in public. I look over his shoulder and see Dawson approaching.

"Don't listen to him. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm not out of your league. In fact, he's probably just jealous that I'll be in your bed tonight."

Pacey snorts. "Probably, I mean, he propositioned Andie when we were dating."

"See?" I say with a smile. "He thinks all this educated talk is impressive. I'd rather be down in the gutter with you."

"Are you implying I have a dirty mind, Josephine?" He asks as Dawson reclaims his seat at our table.

I smile wickedly, licking my lips as I look at his. "I'm not implying it. I just said it outright."

We turn to see a waiter from the restaurant bringing our food out. It's been long enough since any of us ate that the table falls into complete silence as we do so.

Our threesome walks into the club meekly, looking around for any sign of our friends. "We're meeting Jack and Jen here?" Dawson says in disbelief. The club is lit in a hazy blue smoke, and packed with able-bodied underage drinkers much like ourselves. The chances of Jack, the all-star football player with classic build and looks, and petite Jen who gets lost in a crowd despite rising above it with personality, being found, are slim. They just seem to mold into the walls in places like this.

"Yep," Pacey says comfortably. He takes my hand and strides along the east wall. "I know where they hang out."

I smile at him as he looks back at me. There's only an aisle one person wide, and I feel Dawson grabbing on to the back of my shirt as we trail along. I try not to be bothered, and I try to remember that he's just holding on to me so he doesn't drown in the sea of people dancing. But if it weren't for that, I think I would have his ass in a sling any minute.

"Joey!" Jack says, already looking a little tipsy, and he reaches for me. Pacey looks at him in surprise.

"Thanks, man. Way to leave me out of the greeting."

"I like Joey better. She's soft and she smells good," Jack says in a childlike voice as he continues to hold on to me.

"Well, he's not the only one at the table," Jen says, standing awkwardly. "Hi, Pace."

"Hi, Jen," he says, eagerly accepting her attention.

"Oh, hello Dawson." Jack says over my shoulder. I start trying to break free of his embrace by pushing on his chest. This earns the response of holding on to me tighter. I gasp, trying to draw a real breath.

"Choking here," I say simply and he finally releases me.

"You smell really good," he says, flashing me a bright smile.

"Thanks, I think." I say, noting the sideways glance Pacey throws at him. I wink at Pacey and he turns back to Jen.

"Is Will here?" Pacey asks her.

"Yeah, somewhere," she says, sitting down and sullenly looking into her drink.

"They got in a fight," Jack intones to me, not so secretly despite his hand guarding his mouth. I frown. I've never done damage control with Jen. I'm not sure if I would know what to say or do. Instead, I motion my head as if to say "Oh" and let the moment pass.

Pacey frowns. "I need to talk to him for a minute." He says, to no one in particular. He then turns to me specifically. "Are you okay if I leave you here for a minute?"

"Yeah," I say. I remember Will acting strangely, or what Pacey told me later was strangely, on the beach yesterday. I know it's really been bothering Pacey since then, so I hope he can clear it up. As he leans in to kiss me, I ask him a question. "What should I say to Jen?"

He pulls back a little to meet my eyes. "Just see if you can figure out what's going on. I doubt Jack will be much help and hopefully Dawson will leave you alone. He and Jen used to date, so I doubt she'll open up around him."

I nod. "Okay. Thanks and good luck."

He shoots a nervous smile at me. "Thanks," he says simply. "I'll meet you back here. Don't go anywhere."

I smile back at him. "All right."

"All right," he repeats softly, before he finally takes his kiss. It kind of latches on and becomes more than either of us intended. As we're locked in our embrace, I hear Dawson clear his throat behind me, effectively pulling us apart. Pacey takes off, plunging into the masses of drunk and dancing patrons, and Dawson motions for me to sit down in the U-shaped booth. Jack begins to scoot, but I quickly take the only available seat next to Jen, rather than sitting between Jack and Dawson.

"Hey, Dawson?" I ask, using my most innocent tone. "Will you go get me a drink, please?"

"Sure," he says with a smile. "What's your poison?"

"I'm not picky," I lie, giving him a fake, annoyed smile. He's a little smarmy for me. Dawson scoots out of the booth and heads toward the bar.

Jack frowns, holding up his glass. "I should've asked him for something, too." He gets up quickly and runs after Dawson, calling after him.

Effectively alone, I turn to Jen. "So, Jen…" I say simply. She looks at me.

"Is it that bad?"

"Is what how bad?" I ask in confusion.

"Do I look extremely miserable or something? You said that with a really sympathetic tone."

I smile at her. "No, it's not that. Jack told me that you and Will fought."

"Oh, that." She says, smiling under my hard, constant gaze. She sighs. "I think I might be in over my head with that one."

I frown. "Why?"

"Because, as much as I say I'm a player and it's a summer fling…I think I might have real, caring feelings for him."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

Jen gives a mirthless laugh. "It is if he doesn't feel the same way."

"And you don't think he does?"

"No, no…I _know_ he doesn't." She traces the edge of the nearly-empty hurricane glass delicately with her finger as she speaks, rather than making eye contact with me. In the loud, boisterous setting, I have to lean closer to hear her speaking in sad tones. "I saw him dancing over there," she gestures vaguely to emphasize her words. "With some girl, this was fine. Until he started making out with one of them; this was not so fine."

"Jen, I'm sorry," I say, covertly starting to look around to see if I can spot Pacey anywhere in the crowd. I catch myself doing it and smile. I shake my head and roll my eyes at myself.

"I mean, he was _right_ there in front of me. How could he care about me and do that? So when he came back to the table, I suggested that he go sit with his new friends. He said he wasn't sure what I was talking about, and I told him what I saw. And just like that, he turned around and went. And that's Jack's definition of a fight."

My mind is racing, trying to come up with something to do or something to say. "Does Will _know_ you care about him?" I finally ask, surprised to see her glance up away from her glass and look at me directly.

"I haven't told him. I'd kind of assumed the sex would be a big clue."

"Why?" I ask her. "You go around, making all this noise about how sex can be as simple as just a physical act between two people, and about how you're a player and you aren't looking for a relationship. Where in there should he hear that you care about him in that way?"

"Pacey told you about the high school sex pact, did he?"

"Yeah," I admit a little sheepishly. "But above and beyond that, I've heard you say things like that, too. You do it all the time."

Her gaze is slightly clouded by alcohol, a little drunken and unsteady as she really studies me. "You're a good friend, Joey."

"What would make you say that?"

"You're the only one that doesn't bullshit me."

"What about Jack?"

"Jack is ninety percent bullshit," she says, just in time for Jack to sit down. She looks at him, trying to slide into the booth without much success. The problem comes in where he isn't setting his drink on the table to slide, so it's sloshing around in the glass. I reach across the table and set it down, then slide it around with him. He looks up with a happy thank you, as Jen smiles gently. "And I like him that way."

I smile as I look at her, smiling at her best friend in the world, and I see him giving her the same fond look. If only he weren't gay, right? And it dawns on me that I've never seen them actually be serious with each other. They are ninety percent bullshit, at least verbally. Their caring for one another is found in gestures and the little things they do for one another.

Dawson scoots in next to Jack. "So, Joey," he begins loudly, over the music.

"Bathroom," Jen says simply, looking as if she's going to be sick. I jump out of the booth to allow her passage, but my look doesn't waver. I don't bother excusing myself as I follow her, but I lose her in the crowd. I head vaguely in what I think to be the correct direction, and stop in the hallway when I hear two familiar voices arguing. I sigh and roll my eyes. _Why me_?

"You're just jealous, man." Pacey says angrily.

"Jealous of what? I've seen you trying to pick up the pieces when these girls leave at the end of the summer and I much prefer it when you're not involved with them in the first place!" Will says back. "She's going to do nothing but hurt you, and in the end, you're going to come back to me, claiming to need our 'friendship.' You haven't been around this summer Pacey, and the summer hasn't even started. As soon as a girl enters the picture, you're gone. That's where your loyalty lies, huh?"

"It isn't like that!" Pacey says simply. "Besides, you've been spending plenty of time with Jen, so you don't have room to talk."

"Well, that's over now. And besides that, I don't up and leave my real friends when a chick enters the picture. That's my point_,_ it's _your_ pattern, and I'm so sick of it, man. It's been this way since we were kids. When you started dating Andie, I didn't see you for years. Then, all of a sudden, you're back."

"It's over with you and Jen? Why is that, dude? You're telling me that I don't recognize something good when I see it, but Jen is the best thing that's happened to you, and you're just that easy going about it."

"I can recognize the difference between a summer fling and a real relationship. I'm not _that_ desperate for someone to love me, man."

"Fuck you!" Pacey spats. "This is such a waste of time," he mutters more quietly. I close my eyes, hearing the pain laid bare in his voice.

"I didn't mean that," Will says firmly.

"Yeah, well, whatever. You still said it," Pacey says, his voice dead calm. I'm guessing he turns and heads abruptly around the corner, because the next thing I know, he runs straight into me, catching me by the arm to stop himself from falling.

"Joey," he breathes. "Did you…what are you…"

"Jen was looking for the bathroom, and I lost her. I came around the corner and heard…why am I always overhearing your private conversations?" I say, my voice quietly frustrated as he pulls me next to him.

"It's okay," he says gruffly, his embrace almost smothering me. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, holding on to me for dear life.

"Are you okay?" I ask, turning my head so I can kiss his cheek.

"I'll be fine," he says, still not moving. "And the bathrooms are just down the hall. Jen walked past us."

"Oh." I say, straining to see anything. But between his 6'2" frame pressed against me and the wall, I can't see anything down the hall. "Do you think Will went to talk to her?"

"Probably." He says. "He and Jen have done this since we were kids. They've never actually had a relationship with each other, though. I think it might be a little too much for them." He finally pulls back. "You know, the history."

"Yeah, history doesn't make for a good summer fling." I say, easing around him to peek around the corner. "Or so I've heard."

"Oh, so what does make for a good summer fling according to you, Potter?"

I smile. I've never heard my last name said like that, and I can't even describe how he said it. But it wasn't with contempt, judgment, loathing, or condemnation. I step backwards against the wall, pulling him with me by his shirt. He laughs as he falls into me. We begin making out furiously, all the promises and desire from earlier sneaking up on us, with interest.

"You guys need to either get off of each other or go home," Jen says simply. Pacey was doing the most wonderful thing I can imagine to my ear with his tongue when she interrupted.

"I have to wait for Dawson," Pacey says simply, barely bothering to pull his lips off me. "He doesn't know his way around."

"There's a couch at my house with his name on it. I assume Joey is all yours tonight," she comments, her eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of us.

"You're a lovely person, Miss Lindley," Pacey says jovially. "Thank you for taking my guest upon yourself for the evening. I think we will be hitting the road, then."

Beach Front is Will's bar of choice here on the edge of the beach. They look the other way when you present false identification, and somehow manage to avoid penalty. I heard a rumor that the owner's mother is on the Bureau of Alcoholic Beverage Control here. That might have something to do with it. The bottom line is that we can get our underage selves served here, so it's a pretty popular hangout with the young and pretty crowd.

We wave goodbyes more than we say them as we head out of the bar quickly. It's close to Pacey's boat, which is fortunate because I don't know if we could keep our hands off of each other long enough to get anywhere else.

I've been awake for a while now. Due to the late hour we got in, neither of us went for a morning run, but I was awake in time to go all the same. Mostly, I guess I've just been staring. I've been watching Pacey, his lightly tanned face etched with fine lines as his brows furrow and he frowns, even in his sleep. He was more melancholy than normal when we returned to the boat last night, asking for a rain check on the tutorial I had requested. He said he wasn't in the mood for much; he just wanted to 'bask in the company of someone who doesn't find me repulsive'. So, we played cards for a little while, we kissed for a little while, and we fell asleep on the mattress he had previously mentioned. He set it up, complete with sheets and a comforter, on the deck.

I was beginning to think he was too good to be true, this handsome, sophisticated ladies man who went after me with such an easy, open manner, and got me. He can talk about a devastating upbringing with ease, he can face childhood friends who make him feel like nothing, but then he can be buoyant and kind and rise above it all. It's a little bit of a relief to see him like this, because it's a reminder that Pacey is human. He has his flaws, his insecurities, like all of us. And he keeps them close to the vest.

One way I know this is falling in love is that I don't feel the need to keep painful things from my past so close to the vest with him. I hope he has the same blind trust in me.

The glaring sunlight eventually becomes too much for his sleeping eyes and he pulls them open, seemingly not surprised to see me watching him. His face spreads into a quiet, sleepy smile. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning," I echo, tracing a finger over the lines around his eyes that crinkle when he smiles.

"I'm sorry about last night."

"Me, too." I say softly, moving my finger down to trace his lips. "Are you okay this morning?"

He sighs. "I don't know." He rolls on to his back and bends his arm above his head.

"Well, we can talk about it if you want to, but we don't have to."

"I guess I should be glad my friends can be honest with me, huh?"

I scoot over a little more closely to him and rest my head on his chest. He folds his arm around me to pull me even closer as I sigh. "I don't know about that."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know that Will was being completely honest with you," I say. "I could be wrong, because I don't know him extremely well, but I think there's something going on with him that he didn't tell you about. You don't just say things like that to your friends, right?"

"Dawson does."

"Well, I wasn't extremely impressed with Dawson," I declare, my voice still scratchy with sleep and something else. "Does Will treat you like that often, though?"

"No."

"I think you should talk to him," I declare. "Find out where the real problem is."

"I already know what the real problem is."

"What?"

"Will doesn't date. He was extremely hurt in his first relationship, and he keeps girls at arms length. He finds it hard to believe that I don't do the same thing." He clears his throat. "To top it off, Will and I first met because he was with Andie."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. Andie came down here for Spring Break with Jen's family, the only time Jen had been invited after she moved to Connecticut, and Will was here with his family. It was right after we'd broken up, and it felt like she had cheated on me all over again. Will hadn't known anything about the situation. I mean, looking back on it, she didn't have to tell him. We were over, and I know she was just hurting. Somehow, though, Will and I became friends through it." He offers an easy, lopsided smile. "First of all, he's never understood the relationship I had with Andie. And he doesn't understand anything that I've been through in between. It seems like we're just a good distraction for each other, you know? He's someone to party with or someone to play beach volleyball with."

"So you should talk to him," I prompt again.

"I don't want to." He seems just as surprised by his statement as I am.

"I think he's just jealous."

He sighs. "Well, I'm jealous of Dawson, Will's jealous of me…"

"Why are you jealous of Dawson?"

"Dawson has the ideal nuclear family. His parents divorced for a while, but they got back together. He is really close with his dad, and his mom adores him. Why shouldn't I be jealous of him?" Pacey snorts, as if this is obvious to anyone with vision and any sort of perspective.

"Because you're you. And he's him, which is not necessarily something to be proud of."

He chuckles. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." He tightens his grip on me a little, and I know there's something to it more desperate and more needful than his words imply.

"What makes you say that?" I ask, my voice a little more flirtatious than I recognize. He's turning me into a shameless hussy. It's a fact of life, I suppose.

"Because you're the only one who doesn't automatically agree with my self-deprecation and take it as a hint to start in on me. You always find a way to discredit it and make me feel good about myself."

I pull away from him and lean up on my elbow to look at him seriously. "Pacey, if there's one thing I've learned from everything that happened to me while I was growing up, it's that other people's opinions only have the value you assign. They can't hurt you if you don't let them, and honestly, most people weren't worth my time back then. If I make you feel good about yourself, it's because there's something there to feel good about."

He smiles, and reaches up to kiss me soundly. He pulls away with a sexy smirk. "So, want me to teach you a little something?"

I groan as I pull away. "Now I'm the one who has to take a rain check. Bessie and I have set Saturday mornings as the time when I'm supposed to set aside to give her a call. She's sworn to kill me before Labor Day if I don't call her once a week."

"Well, in that case, I believe we have a date tonight."

My smile widens a little. "We do? I don't believe you asked me for a third date."

"I didn't? I swear I did. That must've been a terrible mistake.'

"Horrible," I confirm in a teasing voice. "It really rattled my self-confidence, thinking you didn't want to go out again. I may have to really think about our future together now."

He chuckles. "Can I at least walk you home while you ponder it?"

"I suppose." I say, tossing an eye-roll over my shoulder as I stand up. I go below deck to find the clothes I left neatly folded in his hammock last night, after he loaned me a pair of boxers and a t-shirt to wear to bed. He follows me, presumably to change from his boxers and tank top.

"Do you mind waiting a minute for me to shower? I'm sure Dawson will want to hang out today." I know my eyes darken visibly by his reaction. He crosses the room to me and lifts my chin up with his finger. "Hey, I know you aren't too sure about him. But he's leaving this afternoon."

"I know."

"So really, it'll only be a couple of hours. Weren't you supposed to go shopping with Jack anyway?"

"Yes." I say. One of my flip-flops had an unfortunate run-in with Jack during his 'throwing things at Andie' phase the other day. It landed in the ocean and was swept away before anyone could process what had happened. Under pain of death, he promised me a new pair.

"So you won't have to deal with him, then we can go on our date, and then we can get lucky."

"You already are lucky. You have the pleasure of my company." I tease, raising my head to meet his eyes voluntarily. He chuckles.

"Don't I know it," he says as he pulls me into a hug. He kisses my forehead before he pulls away to take the fastest shower known to man. Seriously, I'm running a brush through my hair as he comes out, fully dressed, his hair still wet. I've only just finished dressing myself.

I smile. "Good god, did you use soap?"

"I only use soap once a week," he says.

"I knew I smelled something last night."

"You'll smell it tonight, too, because I don't plan on using soap for a few more days."

"Pig," I say, the sting taken right out my words by his arms around my waist.

"You love me."

"I knew I would regret saying that out loud." I say, swatting at him playfully as we make our way up to the deck, and then off the deck to the dock.

Jack looks at me suspiciously. "How can it take this long for you to choose flip-flops?"

"Two reasons. Firstly, I know you just want to go home and polish off that keg from the party last week. Secondly, in a word, Dawson." I look over at him guiltily as I peruse the rack of flip-flops that are now 20% off.

"Ah, I see. And what time does our resident asshat director take off?"

"Three."

"So, in other words…"

"We have another hour and a half of shopping," I say brightly.

"Your phone call with your sister was suspiciously short this morning."

"Well, when Will and Jen came in the room, I felt like I should give them privacy. The giggling from Audrey's room wasn't too appealing, and Dawson and Pacey were in the kitchen. I was left with precious few options."

"You could've gone outside."

"Elementary school fieldtrip to the beach. Right outside your back door, in case you hadn't noticed." I take one pair off the rack.

"Those ones?" His eyes light up.

"Pipe down, I just told you we were going to be here for another hour."

"You _hate_ shopping." He protests.

"Does that tell you how much I didn't like Dawson?" I ask, scrunching up my nose in the way that he has proclaimed 'adorable'. He reached out and touches the tip of my nose.

"Welcome to the club." He looks over his shoulder. "You know, we could go to a movie or something."

"We could, but I also have to go buy an outfit appropriate for a job interview. When I was looking for a serving job, I didn't care about wearing jeans to an interview. I wasn't really planning on an office job." I shrug. "The rest of my clothes are at Jen's parents' house in New York."

"Is it necessary that I be here for this?"

"This job interview is tomorrow. I'm not going to come back later."

"You're not going to waste your nookie time with Pacey shopping, in other words."

"In other words," I say noncommittally, browsing the rack again.

"Great. So I just get Pacey's leftovers…the time you don't want to spend with him."

"Be careful, the bitter diva in you is starting to come out."

He lifts up his t-shirt to check underneath it. "Where?"

I toss a smirk and an eye roll over my shoulder. "All right, I guess these will do. Then you can finish it off by buying me lunch."

"What do you think I am, a bottomless cash pit?"

"Well, if money doesn't grow on trees, it has to come from somewhere." I smile sweetly.

"I already have one fag hag; I don't think I need another one."

"See, I don't think calling me a hag is the way to get around buying my affection." I slap him across the chest playfully with the flip-flops. "I promise I'll buy you lunch at least once after I get this job."

"Why do you have a job interview on a Sunday?" He squints as we approach the counter.

"I'm not sure." I smile at him, my most winning grin.

"I'm just asking what kind of a reputable place to work will hold job interviews on a Sunday, that's all."

"Again I answer you: I'm not sure. But Pacey works there, and I know he isn't thinking in terms of a career, so I don't know that it's necessarily a reputable place to work as much as it is a way to pay my bills next year."

The clerk rings us up quickly, there is some awkward banter about how cute it is that Jack goes shopping with his girlfriend, and we're finished.

"So, for your job interview, I'm thinking something a little different, a little daring…"

"I already told you I'm not wearing jeans."

"If they want you to come for an interview on a Sunday, I think jeans are fine!" Jack protests as I stop at another clothing store. I'm staring at the dummies in the window, without heads, and wondering if it's actually possible for a person to wear those clothes and look as good in them with a head. Sometimes, to be honest, I have my doubts. I shoot a look at him over my shoulder, enough to see that his shoulders are sagging and he's resting the American Eagle bag on the floor. His face is smoldering with the burnt edges of a pout.

"This will be a quick stop, I promise," I say. "I already know my size and I'm going straight for the clearance rack."

"Do they carry negative sizes here?"

"What are you trying to say?" I ask, looking back at him as he follows me, dejected. He certainly does the puppy dog pout well. It's just too bad that I don't feel sorry for him.

"You're extremely small."

"I'm four inches taller than average." I state in confusion as I rifle through the clearance rack. I hold up a short-sleeved, white button down shirt. A white eyelet design is embroidered on it, and it looks extremely girly. It's also somewhat see-through, and I think the light, gauzy material is one thing that won't be too overbearing, as the daytime temperature outside is starting to get quite warm. "This?"

"I hope you're wearing something underneath it."

"It depends on how reputable the company is," I banter, holding on to the shirt, but rifling through the rack all the same. "Maybe I'll try it out on Pacey first."

Jack immediately puts his hands over his ears and begins chanting that he isn't listening, earning more than a few errant glances of irritation from other customers.

"Jack, you're making a scene."

"Joey, you're making me nauseous."

"Hey, it isn't my fault you have yet to find a summer fling." I decide to go with the $10 shirt and head for the register. The pants I bought for my first date with Pacey should do it, and I don't really feel like shopping anymore. This shirt is feminine enough for now. I hand the shirt to the cashier, and offer my most charming smile as Jack continues to rant on and on about propriety.

Finally, the cashier turns to him. "You're gay, aren't you?" She asks, earning a wary glance. At least he stops his tirade.

"Why?"

"It's just something I can tell." She says simply as she folds my shirt and puts it into the bag.

"Continue," he says suspiciously.

"My older brother is gay. He's living down here with me for the summer. He hates it when I do this, but would you like to talk to him?"

"What's his name?"

"Ben." She clears her throat a little. "Ben Street."

Jack looks to me for support. I'm in the middle of taking my bag from her, though, and I shrug emptily. I drop it on the floor in our silent miscommunication about grip strength, and as I bend to pick it up, I hear him agreeing to her offer. I wait as impatiently as I dare for him to give her his number.

"Joey!" He proclaims excitedly as we exit the store. "I guess I should thank you for making me go into that horrible place!"

I look at him and raise an eyebrow. "Don't thank me until after you've gotten some."

"Okay, I'll hold off on the Joey-affirming gratuitous love until then." He says. "So, lunch…my treat…where are we heading?"

I contemplate it for about two point five seconds until my stomach rumbles. "Whatever is out of the fast-food range and within a one-mile radius?"

He nods and slings an arm around my shoulder. "You're my kind of girl, Joey."

"You're just saying that because you're gay and I'm taken."

"No, I'm saying that because you're fun."

"Okay," I say with a shrug and smile shyly at him, feeling a blush creep up into my cheeks.

"Good God, woman. Learn how to take a compliment, would you? Pacey can help you out with that, I'm sure. He's all sweet on you when you're not around."

"Really?"

Jack looks at me with a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, really. It's actually quite disgusting."

"What does he say?" I ask, feigning casualness.

"It depends on the day and how hot the sex was the night before."

"Jack, we haven't had sex." I say simply, pulling my sunglasses down on to my forehead as we hit the doors to the mall.

"Why?"

I sigh. "It's mostly because of me. But a little bit Will and Jen's fight last night, too."

"You were planning on just having sex with him last night?"

"I don't know about that, but I'm sure we would've done something more than make out." I say, sighing again and feeling my shoulders sag a little under the weight of his arm. "For whatever reason, I'm a little hesitant about sex. Whenever I have it will be my first time," I admit in a low voice.

"Yeah, I'm all talk, too. I've only ever had sex with a woman."

I push him away from me. "Shut up!"

"Wow, you've spent a little too much time with Audrey." He says, giving an amused chuckle. "I never thought I'd hear you say 'shut up' with quite that intonation."

"You thought about it?"

"Well, not really. Anyway, sex is a big deal. You should only do it if you're ready, especially considering the likelihood that your relationship is going to last."

"Are you talking about the 'summer only' aspect, or are you being brutally honest?"

"A little bit of both," he admits, slipping his arm around me again. He pauses to lick his lips. "You two are going rather fast, but I think it's only because of the nature of timing here. If you'd met Pacey, say, at school, it would be totally different. Here, you know there isn't a chance it's going to last. He's here and you're in New York."

I sigh. "I heard him tell Andie that he's considering moving."

"Are you kidding me? You've only known each other a few weeks."

"I know!" I say. "But when I heard him say that, and then when he said it to me again later, I have to tell you that it didn't sound like such a bad idea."

"You really want to be the woman he follows around?"

"It's not that. It's just…well, I guess feeling like someone enjoys my company gives me this high that impairs my judgment. I throw all kinds of things out the window when I'm with him."

"Like what? That doesn't necessarily sound like a good idea."

"Well, like the fact that I swore to myself I would never fall in love."

Jack looks a little taken aback. "Does he know you feel this way?"

I lick my lips and consider lying, but what would be the point of that? I could change the subject, too. "He said it first, Jack."

"Wow."

"Yeah," I echo. "It's more than just a summer fling to me." My voice grows a little raspy. "But I'm afraid that this is just the lust phase and I'm not experienced enough to recognize it."

"Only time will tell." He says hopelessly. I look over at him with a glance of foreboding.

"Thanks a lot. That really helps clarify things for me."

"Well, it's one of two things, and only time will show you which one. Either it's totally lust and a passing attraction, or it's love or it will still be there after the passing part of it fades. Let the newness of it all wear off a little bit and see how you feel then."

"How much newness can wear off in three and a half months, Jack?"

"See, so it will be short and sweet."

"I don't know that I want it to be that simple. What if I don't want it to end?"

"That's the rush of something being new and exciting that I was talking about. In my relationship experience, which is obviously not much, there comes a point where you have an epiphany about the nature of the relationship. That sweetness wears off and is replaced with something a little more permanent."

"And where are you getting your information?" I pry.

"Jen." He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. "The sweetness has just sort of worn off for me. It's never become something more long-lasting."

He swings the door of the restaurant open for me and allows me to walk through before him. The hostess stops me and asks how many. I tell her, and she prompts us to follow someone named Steve to our table.

I don't know why I remember these details. Somehow, I remember this, but I forgot to put a name on one of my blue books at the end of the first semester. It was only the small class size and the diligent attention of a teacher who knew my handwriting that saved me.

"Jo! Jack!" A curiously familiar voice calls out from a booth in the corner as we walk past. I turn, startled more by the familiarity of the voice than the fact that it was calling me, and I see Dawson and Pacey sitting there, Pacey waving frantically to get our attention.

It's arranged that we'll sit with Dawson and Pacey in the flash of an eye, and some rather confusing questions from the host. Finally, I settle into the booth next to Pacey. Their food has recently arrived, and he graciously pushes the plate over between us.

Jack and Dawson exchange veiled pleasantries as I turn to Pacey.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Fancy meeting you here," I say with a smile.

"I know! Crazy that." He chuckles. "I knew you were going to the mall, though, and I figured lunch would be a likely stop. I think it would be accurate to say that I hoped to run into you here."

"Why is that?" I ask. He studies me face for only a moment before he leans down a little and plants a tender kiss on me.

"Honestly!" Jack says. "Sharing food…kissing in booths…would you like Dawson and me to leave so you can have some privacy?"

"Was that an actual offer or…." Pacey asks, not removing his gaze from my face.

"No!" Jack says. "You can have plenty of alone time later. Joey is supposed to be ours for the afternoon."

"Ours?" I question, breaking away from Pacey enough to look at Jack.

"Well, Jen and I have decided that you don't spend enough time with the roommates. We're trying to form solidarity as a group, and plans are being put into place. You'll be receiving your informational packet any day now."

"Packet?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He waves it off as he begins perusing the menu. I turn back to Pacey.

"So what have you two been up to?"

"Not much, just catching up over coffee at Jen's. We played Playstation for a little bit over at Will's…"

I must give him a look that begs for more information.

"You can pump me for information later, Potter." He says tiredly. "We're just grabbing a bite before Dawson heads to the airport." He motions to our bags. "It looks like you made it through about twenty successive minutes of shopping before you demanded sustenance."

"Twenty three minutes and eight seconds," Jack supplies without looking up from the menu. Pacey looks at him with startled amusement, but doesn't verbally question anything.

"Yeah, but now that I'm here, I think I'm happy to eat off of your plate." I say simply, stealing another French fry from him.

"You can eat off my plate any time," he says simply, leaning toward me with a suggestion in his eyes to match the one in his voice.

"For the love of God!" Jack says, slamming the menu down. "Would it be so hard for you to get a room?"

"Well, since neither of us actually have a _room_," I begin sarcastically. "I think it's probably harder than you would imagine."

"Privacy is hard to come by around here," Dawson notes. "It's not like that in California at all."

"Well, I've had plenty of privacy in the last year. I came here to get away from that." I look at Pacey and smile.

"It pains me to think about you having all that time to yourself." Pacey comments. "What is a beautiful girl, alone in the city, supposed to do with her spare time?"

"Sounds like a porn film," Jack supplies. He stops suddenly as we all snicker at his unguarded comment. "Joey _studies. _Have you actually met her?"

Pacey laughs a little. "Yes, I have. It's an ugly habit of hers we're trying to break."

"Hey, I would think that making the Dean's List with a 4.0 is something to be proud of." I say defensively, taking another French fry.

"I wouldn't go that far," Jack says. "I would think a more worthy goal for a young woman such as you, as far as higher education goes, would be to pound several beers at a frat party without feeling a thing."

"How do you know I can't do that?"

"I've seen you drink beer," he says simply. I just shrug because, well, he's right.

"Maybe I wasn't invited to frat parties all the time."

Pacey pulls me close to him. "Hey, Potter? I love you just the way you are."

"See? I'm valued," I say to Jack, pointing to Pacey.

"Again, I don't know if that's something to be proud of. This is Pacey we're talking about. Pacey tends to value women in general. And he could drink any one of us under the table."

"Jack wants me." Pacey leans over and whispers in my ear. He slips a glance at Jack. "Or maybe he just wants to be me. You know, what I would be like if I were gay."

"That's a really scary visual, Pace." I say, my eyes meeting his with serious meaning.

"Well, as fun as this has been, I need to go catch a plane." Dawson says. "Pacey, I'll see you back home over Thanksgiving?"

"Not likely," Pacey says simply.

"Well, then I'll talk to you about it soon." Dawson says with a smile. Jack moves to let Dawson out of the booth. Pacey waves as Dawson mumbles through how nice it was to meet me. I wave, too, not wanting to reach any particular body part too close to him. As soon as he's made his exit, I turn to Pacey.

"So, I'm dying here. What happened with Will?"

He sighs, because even though I could've sworn Jack was placing his order, we now have his full attention, too. "You were right, Jo. You're always right."

"Words to live by," I say teasingly. "Seriously."

"He's jealous because he thinks I'm spending too much time with you. He said he doesn't want to see me get my heartbroken, because he knows that he can't keep up with the drinking that happens in the wake of that." He clears his throat. "And I think he's way more upset about Jen than he let on, but we just played Playstation instead of getting into all that. He apologized and he told me that isn't what he thinks. He pointed to the fact that he doesn't tease me about that stuff, and there's more truth in humor than there is in lashing out."

"I don't know about that," I say dryly.

"So, he proposed that I hang out with him one night a week, no girls involved." Pacey eyes Jack warily. "Which might be a good idea so you can spend time with your roommates and they'll stop being so needy." He looks back at me. "Really, getting involved with me and spending the whole summer with just one person wasn't your intention when you came down here."

"No, but what if I like it?" I say, giving him a genuine smile.

"I like it, too." He admits. "We'll give Will a work night or something. That way, we can have the weekends together. I'm sure we can convince Barry to give you the same days off that I have."

"We'll give it a shot." I take the last of his fries. "I just ate your food."

"You ate a few French fries. I think I'll be able to handle it." He kisses my forehead. "Are you still hungry?"

"Not really."

"What?" Jack asks, dismayed. "You practically dragged me here kicking and screaming."

"Yeah, eating _is_ really out of character for you." I tease with a raised eyebrow.

"Fine. I'll get my food to go and you guys can go make out in my room. I think Jen had plans with Will anyway."

"What about you?" I question.

"What about me? I at least have a telephone number. Maybe I'll go pump the girl at the mall for more information." He motions to the server as he walks by, and begins amending his order. I turn to Pacey.

"So what are we going to do all afternoon?" I ask innocently, knowing what I hope he'll say.

"Well, I believe I owe you a tutorial. You said you were very impressionable."

"Very. And like Jack says, I study a lot. Tutoring has been very beneficial to me, as I'm very diligent about learning new things."

"Okay," Jack says, raising his eyebrows. "You have me all hot and bothered, which is really unfair because I don't have anyone to take it out on. You should leave _now._"

Pacey laughs as we both slide out of the booth. He keeps me very close to him, so close it's endearing. He tosses a few bills on to the table. "That should cover me and Dawson."

"Thanks, man."

I bend over and kiss Jack on the forehead. "Thanks for the shopping."

"You're welcome," he replies, embracing me. "But just remember, Pacey said we get you all to ourselves one night a week. There will be no end to the debauchery Jen and I cook up."

"I'm sure," I say dryly. "We're all going out tonight anyway, so I'll see you back at the beach house."

"See you," he says. I only look back once at Jack as we exit the restaurant. He has the information from the girl in the mall pulled out of his pocket and he's mulling it over. Maybe we'll be adding one more summer fling to our circle of roommates before the summer begins.


	7. Chapter 7

"So it occurs to me that this is the only thing we've done for the last month in the name of roommate bonding," Jen says suddenly, turning over on her side to look at me squarely. She pushes her sunglasses up over her forehead, securing them in her hair as she studies me.

"So? We're in Florida. We live at the beach." I say with a scowl. "Why wouldn't we enjoy time at the beach?"

"I would find that more believable if I hadn't found you and our resident lothario engaged in some very heavy, half-naked tonsil hockey last night. I think you're just waiting for him to come jogging up the beach."

"Yeah, well, he would be with your own resident lothario at the moment, so I wouldn't be surprised if you were waiting for the same thing." I say sharply.

She narrows her eyes at me. "You think you're so smart."

"Well, I don't know. It could be that for the last three weeks, we've established this pattern whereby we only hang out for a few hours before _both_ of the boys show up."

"You say that like Jack hasn't been out and about on the dating circuit."

"Holing up every night with one man and forcing you into either couch exile or to Will's house hardly qualifies as 'out and about'."

"Look who's talking!" Jen points out. 

"I'm just saying that Jack isn't out and about so much as he is in and enjoying that." I settle back into my beach chair. I begin to pleasantly drift off toward a much-needed nap as I feel some not-quite-as-pleasant drips of cold water across my unprepared stomach. 

"Jack!" I say sharply, dragging my eyes open and sitting up. 

"Oh, shut it! You can't just lie there so peacefully and expect me not to take action." He finishes shaking water droplets out of his hair all over me. "Besides, Jen gets enough of my torture. I only get one day with you when I don't have to go through Pacey first."

"Amen," Jen says, piping up in a voice laced with sun-induced drowsiness.

"I want to go out!" Jack declares finally.

"Well, it's about time." Jen says, regarding him a little more closely. "We haven't thrown a party in two weeks because our main supplier of beer ran out and got himself some ass."

"So let's throw a party!" He says simply.

"You guys throw a party. Pacey and I are going to the Keys. Does anyone else remember this?"

"Are you going to get laid yet?" Jack says, settling down onto his beach towel and flexing his toes interestedly as he watches the sand clinging to them as it begins to dry and fall off.

"Oh, Jack. How many more times do I have to tell you that I'll get laid when I feel like it and it's none of your business?"

"At least one more," he says, offering me a cute smile as I flip him the bird. "That's really cute, Jo, but I'd like to hear Pacey's thoughts on the subject of him being used."

"As long as it's for her betterment, I'm a willing victim," a warm voice says, the familiarity of it causing an unabashed smile to spread across my face.

"Hey!" I say, getting up quickly.

"Hey, beautiful," Pacey says, enveloping me in his arms easily. "Out working on your summer tan again?"

"Well, Jen and I ran out of oil to spread all over each other, so I think I might just be sitting in the sun for the moment." I cock my head to the side to regard him playfully as I feel my words sink south on him. I press against him a little more intimately.

"You give fantasies a good name, you know that?"

"Is that your way of telling me I'm the best?" I ask. He nods his agreement as he presses his lips to mine.

"Please, all the verbal foreplay you two engage in makes me sad that Ben had to go home for the weekend. Will you take it in the house?"

"Maybe we should take you in anyway," Pacey says, his fingers lightly caressing my bare shoulders. "You feel a little warm. I don't want you to get sunburned."

"Maybe, but I've heard it's fun in the swimming pool," I say lightly, trying to discern if Jen is listening or not. 

Jen confirms she is listening when she barely looks up from her magazine and feigns disinterest. "You'll die," she says simply. "You need to respect the partygoers' right to a swimming pool untainted by semen and pee."

"Jack took care of that at the last party," Pacey says, looking a little shocked that the comment slipped past his social censors as Jack looks at him with an expression feigning hurt. 

"Pacey, you shouldn't tell people we hooked up in the pool. It could be bad for your budding romance," Jack says, leveling his most adorable smile at Pacey.

"Why is it that girl-on-girl is exciting for guys, but guy-on-guy isn't particularly exciting for girls?" Jen ponders aloud, seeming much more interested in the conversation. "I mean, that comment could've provided us with loads of visuals, but it's really something I would never, ever want to imagine."

"Yeah, thanks for the image, Jack," I supply.

"Do I even want to know?" Will asks, approaching Jen slowly. The on-again, off-again nature of their relationship is baffling to me, but then again, the steady on-again nature of mine with Pacey has been enough to make me think without the complication of semi-daily breakups. 

"Definitely not," Pacey confirms. Will drops down on to the towel where I was laying just a few minutes ago, between Jen and Jack. He distracts Jen with idle conversation as Pacey turns to me and asks if we should go.

"Oh, sure…the four of you leave me all alone on roommates' day. Whatever," Jack chimes in, reclining lazily in the afternoon sun.

"You would be so much less bitter if Ben were here right now," Jen supplies, sounding just a little bitter in her own right.

"This is true," he concedes. "Fine, go…frolic. Be young and in love. See if I say anything else about wanting to spend quality time with some of my favorite people." He tilts his face toward the sun a little too dramatically.

I look at the three of them, lying comfortably in the sun, and I feel Pacey tugging me lightly on the hand. We're leaving for a short 'vacation' tomorrow morning, sailing his boat down to the Keys for a few days. His excitement is palpable and endearing. But I do feel a little guilty. As much as I know that Jack is just teasing, because we've specifically discussed all of this, I feel like leaving is kind of a slap in the face. I'm taking off on an adventure that they aren't going on. Pacey promised to take us all out of his boat together for an afternoon, hoping to get the roommate required blessing before I would consent to the trip, but somehow it still feels a little like I'm abandoning them.

It's really only Jack and Jen that I feel badly for leaving. Andie and Audrey have been around doing their own things. Andie has hardly spoken to me in the last month because she's still holding on to false hope for something with Pacey. I have to admit that, if it came down to a choice, I would move out of the house gladly to keep peace with her but also to have the option of being with Pacey all summer. Jen has already forbid it, promising that she'll make sure Andie and I steer clear of an ugly confrontation. I know that she talked briefly to Andie and mentioned that I was a little uncomfortable at the revelation of the "Pacey Loves Andie" memorabilia that has been frequently left out. I don't think she's vindictive, but I think she leaves it out on purpose so I'll see it and be reminded that she and Pacey share a history, a connection, that I wouldn't know anything about. Never mind the fact that he and I are building something of our own, that we have inside jokes and make references to things other people can't possibly remember, either.

I go with the motion as Pacey tugs me into the house. He promised to come pick me up this afternoon so that we could 'get started on our time away'. I'm just a little torn between that and roommate day. Of course, Roommate Day is an agreement applied specifically to myself, Jen, and Jack. Andie doesn't participate much because of the Pacey factor and Audrey doesn't participate because I think we're all a little too tame for her.

"So, it looks like we have the whole house to ourselves," he says with a happy smile.

My eyes squint as they adjust to the dimmer inside light and then I roll them at his antics. "Gee, what a shock. It's almost like you planned it this way."

"Almost," he says, offering a shoulder shrug.

I raise an eyebrow at him as he pulls me in front of the couch. "Pace, we're going to be alone for days. May I also point out that we're not only going to be alone and confined to a limited space for that time?"

"Is this your way of telling me that you're sick of me?"

I nod grimly. "It's true. Really, I've just been waiting for something better to come along."

"Well, I guess it would be easier if we parted ways now then, right?" He asks, furrowing his brow and scratching nervously at his stomach. "It would save a lot of time and heartache in the end."

I step closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck, effectively pressing myself against him. "Where would the fun in that be? I've been kind of looking forward to the heartache at the end."

He smiles gently, lowering his gaze to look into my face. "You would."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think that you, my dear, are a little bit of a cynic. But just a little bit. Hidden somewhere beneath that pessimistic exterior is a girly girl just waiting for a big romantic gesture."

I chuckle and raise my eyebrows, disbelieving that I could form a sentence with his thumbs tracing circles on my exposed back. "Oh, is that so?"

"Hey, I just call it like I see it." He says, finally lowering his head to kiss me firmly. We're completely lost in the embrace. I don't feel the stale blast of air coming from outside as Jen, Jack, and Will traipse inside. I don't notice Pacey's fingers reaching up to untie my top as they come in. It doesn't register that both of those things are happening simultaneously.

"Could we please try and keep this at _least_ PG-13?" Jack says as they come inside. Pacey immediately stops what he's doing, but it's already too late as the halter top of my swimsuit comes tumbling down. I feel myself blush as I turn to adjust it, but Pacey keeps me close to him and covers me a little.

"Seriously now," Jack says as I turn around, clothing in all appropriate places. "Do you think broad daylight, in the middle of our house, is the place for that?"

"No one else is home," Pacey says defensively. "You were all firmly entrenched in your sandy seats when we left and dozing in the sun. What happened to that plan?"

"We came to a conclusion," Jen says evasively. She sidles into the kitchen, past Will. Her destination is apparently the fridge, for a bottle of water.

"What's that?" 

"We're throwing you a going away party," Jack says brightly. "Won't that be fun?"

"You realize that we both have to be back at work on Thursday morning, right?" Pacey asks. "We're not going to be gone that long." 

"Think about how romantic it would be to just run away for the whole summer on a boat." Jen says, leaning against Will. She doesn't bother fantasizing and instead takes a long pull from her bottle of water.

"Ugh, no shower," I say simply.

"Umm, no food." Pacey adds to my disgust in tandem. "Maybe it would work if we were independently wealthy."

"Or still in high school and sucking off of our families," I consider.

"But in the real world, Jen, that just wouldn't work. We have bills to pay, obligations to meet…" Pacey sticks his tongue out as he turns to me. "So what would be the bad part about sailing away for a whole summer?"

I look at him with a roll of my eyes. "It's not at all practical."

"That would be why I said to imagine how romantic it could be. How often is romance practical?" Jen pipes up. 

Pacey looks to Jen. "Too bad you aren't dating me, or I would find a way to answer that question by example."

"_Anyway_," Jack says impatiently. "We've already decided that your vacation within a vacation is the perfect excuse to throw a party. We've got some catching up to do. We haven't thrown a good party in a while."

"You didn't seem so upset about that when I mentioned it last week," I say, more to bother him than anything else. 

"Last week, my summer fling was here with me. Now he's not." Jack shrugged. "That's another good reason for a party, because we know all a party is good for is getting drunk and swimming."

"I don't think you're supposed to swim when you're drunk," Will says simply.

"Well, I think that Joey and I are going to find some lunch," Pacey says, effectively breaking the conversation about the party for a moment. "Anyone else want to come?"

"Where are you going?" Jack asks, eyeing us suspiciously. He's learned that he has to pick and choose when to go with us. Sometimes, we end up being off in our own little world, much to Jack's frustration.

Pacey looks at me as he answers, "I was thinking about going to the Boardwalk. Fresh crab sounds really good to me."

I shrug easily. "That works."

"Fish and chips!" Jack says enthusiastically. "I'm in."

Jen grimaces. "I've eaten too much seafood lately. I think I'm going to see what we have around here."

"I guess that means I'm out, too," Will says, pointing to Jen, who has set off to rummage through the fridge.

"Way to break up the group!" Jack calls after her.

"I'm going to go shower and change," I offer. Pacey raises an eyebrow appreciatively, and I smile. "No, you cannot come. Soon, though." I wink at him and he growls in response, earning a hearty round of groans from those in the room with us.

I dress quickly, simply, and comfortably, in a t-shirt, shorts and sandals. The weather has warmed up enough now that anything else would be too warm. I pin my hair up with chopsticks so that it's off my neck, although I know Pacey will protest. At least, if we end up lip locking at all, he'll protest. He always runs his fingers through my hair, especially when we're kissing. The problem is that it's hot enough outside that the difference in temperature is worth it. We'll have to figure out a compromise to that.

"Took you long enough," Jack says as I enter the living room. He looks as though he's freshly showered, too, and for a moment, I wonder how long I was actually gone.

"Don't listen to him," Pacey says easily. They're both reclining lazily on the couch I call a bed. "It didn't take you that long. He just got booted from the bathroom by Jen. He's still a little bitter."

"I should be," Jack says defensively. "I was there first."

"You don't have a date to primp for," I tease.

"Thanks for reminding me!" He says. He covers his face dramatically with his hands.

"Okay, as fun as it is to listen to Jack complain, can we go?" Pacey asks as he stands and crosses the room to me. He pulls me close to him. "You're done primping for your date, that's all that matters."

"If you call this primping," I say. I tilt my head thoughtfully. "Although, never mind. If you think that's primping, that means you're easy to please so I'm not going to argue."

His smile brightens as he traces a finger over my cheek. "You're beautiful no matter what you do."

"And I'm gagging no matter what you say in response," Jack says to me as he crosses the room. "Let's go. Maybe it will get you two off of each other for a while."

"Your bitter diva has informed me that her name is Jessica." I say brightly, looking over Pacey's shoulder at him. "She likes long walks on the beach and eating a picnic dinner during the sunset…"

"Your bimbo voice is disturbingly attractive, Potter." Pacey's embrace grows tighter. "I may throw you down on the couch and take you right here."

I tilt my head in the opposite direction and shake it in simple denial. "I'm not _really_ that easy."

Jack snorts rather indelicately and takes my hand. "Please, honey, our interference is the _only_ reason you're not."

I flip him off rather ungracefully as we head out the door. "All right, all right," Pacey says simply as he holds the door for me. "Do I have to turn this car around?"

"No, dad." Jack says with mock penitence as he play-slaps me.

"Hey, keep your hands off my girlfriend," Pacey jokes, pulling me away from Jack with two gentle hands on my shoulders, using the contact as an excuse to pull me against him.

"You know she would choose me if I weren't gay," Jack teases with a knowing smirk as we head up the street toward the boardwalk.

Pacey nuzzles my neck, plants a soft kiss there, and blows on the spot he just kissed. I sigh and lean into him. "Let's get out of here," he says, his voice low and sexy.

"I think they technically threw this party for us, Pacey."

"We were just the excuse," he barters, his tongue snaking out into a delicious rhythm over my warm skin. I sigh openly. "You know you want to."

I smile. "Okay, let's just go say goodbye to everyone," I say casually, pushing myself up off of the couch and hoping that I don't sound too anxious. His soft, casual touch has been driving me insane in the best possible way for the last hour. Secretly, I've just been waiting for him to get us out of here. I turn and smile sweetly as I reach for his hand in a mock attempt to help him up.

All it is for either of us is a desperate excuse to maintain physical contact. I sigh as he uses his momentum to pull me into him. He draws me close for a kiss and then chuckles as he pulls away.

"What's so amusing?" I ask, lazily wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I just find it amusing that someone as practical as you are would enjoy kissing so much at this very public party." His eyes glance around the crowded house, and then flicker back down to me. 

"Well, public kissing is fine as long as it's of the spontaneous variety."

"Spontaneous…variety…" he says slowly. "So the making out on the couch for last hour was not okay?"

I feel the blush starting to creep into my cheeks. "Probably wasn't the best idea. We should go somewhere more private."

He makes a sarcastic gesture, moving his index fingers back and forth in between us. "Really, Potter. We're like this."

"Crazy," I say, pushing his hand down with mine. We turn to find our hosts and say goodbye.

Jen and Will are sitting in the hot tub, seemingly putting an end to the debate about fooling around in the pool area. "We're going to take off," I say, breaking their private reverie.

"You're leaving already?" Jen protests. "It's early still."

"We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Pacey says simply. He already told me that we can get up whenever I want and we'll depart after a leisurely breakfast. Apparently, that was a conversation just between the two of us.

"All right, all right." Jen says, tossing a wink at me. "You two have fun on your trip. Call if you need anything. And don't do anything I wouldn't."

"We've got that covered," I say simply, blowing her a kiss. We say our goodbyes to Will, and then we're out of the house before we spot any of my other roommates.

"So, Mr. Witter, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, our conversation earlier sparked some ideas." He teases.

"Like what?" I ask, feeling a slight blush creep into my cheeks again. Jack teased me mercilessly and asked about sexual fantasies all afternoon, but only coerced me into very limited admissions.

He sighs. "Well, it's really only sparked some pondering," he says simply. "It's not like you were very forthcoming with details."

"Do I strike you as someone who is in touch with their sexual fantasies?" I ask, looking down at the gravel road beneath our feet.

"You're more in touch than you admitted to Jack." He looks over at me with playfully narrow eyes, and in the dim streetlights, it makes him look even more handsome and I smile.

"I don't think I am," I say with an empty shrug. Pacey and I have been all but completely naked with each other at this point. We've kissed, touched, rubbed, licked, and nibbled pretty much every decent and indecent part of one another's anatomy. "I guess I'm just afraid to even imagine any of it, without a basis for comparison."

"You've really never thought about it?"

I shrug again. "Not really. I mean, everything with you has happened so fast, and before that…what was the point in fantasizing about it? I didn't even have an idea what I would be thinking _about_. I didn't know anything about it." 

"So what about now? I mean, you know a little about it now." There's something is his voice that I can't place. Maybe it's apprehension.

I smile slightly at his sweetness. "Now, I just think it may not matter as much as I've always thought. Maybe it isn't the perfect place or time, it's just the perfect person and that's all that matters." His glance meets mine and he almost immediately looks away.

"That's very important," he finally says, kicking at a stray rock on the ground.

I stop him right here in the middle of the street with my hand on his arm. I turn toward him and kiss him with everything I can muster. I can feel the surprise in his facial expression and in his kiss, but it only takes a second for him to warm up to me. He pulls my body flush with his and I feel myself come alive. It's not as simple as that pure happiness that I felt and easily described when we first kissed. It's like that happiness has matured into something else. It's a little edgier, a little sexier, and definitely deeper. I love kissing him now because I love him. I love the person that he is and the way that makes me feel. I love feeling his hard, warm body against mine in the dark. I love knowing that he's the one. 

"Pace, you know you're that person for me, right?" I ask him, my eyes still closed, as I pull away from the kiss.

"How do you know?" He asks. I get the feeling from his tone of voice that his eyes are still closed, too.

"I just know because…I do. I know it in my heart." I finally open my eyes to look at him, and I see him gazing at me, and I know something very important has just happened between us. "I'm not trying to put pressure or expectation or anything like that on you. I'm just telling you how I feel."

"I love you," he murmurs softly, pressing his lips against mine.

We hurry in silence to his boat, understanding what is about to happen and the irrevocable declarations we've both just made. Suddenly there's nowhere for us to be but below deck, and there's no time to be there but right now.

Pacey helps me up on to the boat without the usual "permission to come aboard" banter. I think that he somehow feels like sarcasm would ruin the moment. And normally, I would argue with him because the sarcasm that we share is normally well-placed in any conversation or situation. 

How did all of this become now? I don't know how to answer my doubts, other than to say that it just has. Somehow, it's become now and it's right and all I'm focusing on is this moment where it's just the two of us. We have nothing to prove to ourselves, nothing to prove to each other. We both know how the other feels; we both know why we're doing this. It's as simple as the fact that we love each other and we want to. That seems like more of a good reason to share something else.

I know this isn't how it's always been for Pacey and there are those, namely Bessie, who will try to tell me this is a huge mistake. The bottom line is that it's none of anyone else's business. It's just between the two of us, and we are consenting adults who are making a conscious decision. I sigh as I look over at him, holding my hand as we go below deck. If someone had told me a month and a week ago that I would be here with someone I adored so much, someone who so completely adored me, and I would be about to do this, I would've thought they were crazy.

It's funny how time changes your perspective.

This is all typical Joey, by the way. She overanalyzes everything, she thinks about the world she sees and experiences constantly, no matter how much she tries to fight it and be independent and spontaneous. That just isn't how I am, and I'm okay with that. I'm okay with thinking things through.

The bottom line is, I know that Pacey and I aren't going to last. I know that, at the end of the summer, I will leave. We could never hope to maintain something long-distance, not just because of the distance itself, but because of the nature of the distance. It's like we've emerged from two totally divergent worlds to be here together right now, and at the end of the summer, we will both retreat into the worlds from which we've emerged. It will never be this perfect, it will never work this well, again.

The thought saddens me. I have no idea what impact this is going to have on me, and I know that doing anything to make this relationship more than the casual summer fling it has to be will result in nothing but heartache and more pronounced loneliness. I'm willing, though, because the alternative is not experiencing it at all. I couldn't be here with him and not be changed by it forever.

"What's wrong?" He asks as I sit on the mattress he brought back down into the cabin. Bottom line? Hammocks are a romantic idea, but not very practical for two people to sleep in all summer.

"Why do you think something's wrong?" I ask, crooking my finger at him as if beckoning him toward me.

"I would like to think I'm getting pretty good at reading your faces," he says simply, laying down next to me and pulling me with him. "And this is kind of a long, sad and reflective one."

I give him a small smile, just half of one, and look away as I swallow down the salty bitterness that I can feel rising in my throat. "I just think too much. I think I'm going to be kind of sad when I leave you. That's all." The tears fill my eyes and I try to lower my head so he can't see them. 

"That's still months away. You might be sick of me by then." He tilts my chin up with his finger and looks at me with a smile. "We're taking this one day at a time."

"I'm not going to be sick of you." I swallow hard, feeling a little foolish as the tears slip down my cheeks. "The longer I stay, the more I know I'm going to miss you. And it might be preemptive, but I'm already feeling it a little bit."

"If we're going too fast, we can slow it down. Whatever you want, Jo."

I shake my head quickly. I know immediately that isn't what I want. "I don't have any regrets about this, and I know that I won't," I state firmly. "I may not be experienced with the particular emotion, but I love you. I just…I can't help thinking that I should savor every moment, you know?"

"A good attitude about life in general," he notes. "And we have lots of options at the end of the summer. Let's not talk about it now, okay? Let's not even think about it."

"I don't want to." I give him another watery smile. "But it's there. It makes everything a little bittersweet."

He kisses me softly, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe my tears away. "Well, we'll work on the moment for a while until it's just 'sweet'. How does that sound?"

I smile, a full smile this time. "That sounds good."

"Good," he whispers, leaning toward me and kissing me gently, gradually sliding his tongue over mine as I allow him hesitant entrance. I scoot myself closer to him on the bed, allowing our bodies to be flush although we both lay on our sides. One hand is busy holding his head up, but the other is wandering over the spaghetti straps of my simple tank top, finally skimming down my side and making me shiver.

I hook my leg over his, letting the friction that begins with this new entrance forcing my eyes closed with its sheer power. His hand wanders, by the fingertips, down over the curve of my bottom and to the hem of my shorts. I sigh openly into his mouth and allow him to make the kiss more insistent, enjoying the feel of his hard warmth tangled up in my space.

I slowly begin toying with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one at a time in a painfully slow rhythm. I slip the shirt over his shoulders with practiced ease, surprised at how quickly I've become comfortable with myself, and with him, in this way.

He smoothes his hands over my shirt and doesn't break his kiss. As he gets to the hem, he tugs up on it, immediately moving his mouth to my chest once the skin is bared. He allows me to roll onto my back so he can place open mouthed kisses over my stomach, paying excruciatingly careful attention to my belly button. All I can do by now is kiss his face and claw frantically at his tank top covered back. I pull the cotton shirt over his head easily, discarding it quickly, and I wrap my legs around him, to make the friction that much more intense. I feel my heartbeat increase and as much as I want this to last and be sweet and romantic, I want it over with too, because the intense pressure building up is unbearable.

He gently reaches around him and loosens the grip of my legs so that he can remove my shorts. He doesn't bother with ceremony, lets my panties slide down my legs with the shorts, and then presses himself against me. I reach down to remove his pants, but he quickly separates them from his boxers so he's left in at least his underwear. We continue to make out leisurely, not nearly as heated as we've been doing for the last few minutes, and he finally pulls away from me. A strand of hair, a ponytail escapee, has slipped over my face and he reaches up and tucks it behind my ear. He smiles nervously at me.

"Here's your chance to back out." He says, his fingertips drawing a delicious pattern on my shoulders.

"We've been more naked than this together, Pace." I say, letting my hands wander over his lower back and the fine curve of his tight ass.

"You're right, but we've never been more naked with quite the same intent," he points out. Skinny dipping isn't the same as having sex, I suppose.

"I want you like this," I say simply, my eyes meeting his as his slip closed. I allow my hand to brush over him as I slide the boxers from his legs. He catches them with his foot when I can't pull them lower and pulls them the rest of the way off. I adjust my legs so I cradle him as he reaches to the small table beside the bed.

"Do you want to try this or do you want me to do it?" He asks, his voice low and tender. 

I feel my stomach do a small flip. We're really doing this, aren't we? We're sitting here, just mere seconds from this life-altering thing.

God, Joey. Just quit thinking. You know this is right, and you know you're ready for it. Don't overanalyze yourself out of the details. Remember it. You can analyze it later.

I smile at him. "You do it." I clear my throat. "Show me how."

He smiles back, his grin as nervous as mine. He spares me the embarrassment of a verbal explanation, but I'm getting the feeling that he's not capable of speaking much, and that he's just as excited and nervous as I am. I watch carefully as his skilled hands split the foil wrapper and slide the condom over himself. He looks up at me, seemingly content with our progress to kiss me and get reacquainted for a moment. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest, almost in rhythm with mine as he makes his first, tentative entrance into my body. I close my eyes and think about how it feels. I try to describe it to myself, but all I can come up with is different. It's warmer, more intense than his fingers or his tongue, but that vague statement is all I can conjure. I let in a sharp gasp of air, more in surprise than anything else. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say simply, feeling my body stretch and mold around him. He settles there for a minute, again taking the time to just kiss me and let his hands wander lightly. His fingers tweak one of my nipples and the jolt of sensation, the slight electrical buzz, jump starts me again. As I begin moving against him, I feel him sink into me easily, swiveling his hips gently as he begins to move in and out in a deliciously slow and easy rhythm. He moves his hand and his lips in tandem, his mouth resting on my chest and his hand resting lower as he rubs around. A warm rush fills me, and I know from my limited experience what I'm feeling with the tell-tale tingles.

I moan and the sound is nearly imperceptible as it's overtaken by a harsher pant. I rise up, allowing him as deep inside me as he can go and feel something explode, shattering and sending my muscles skittering into a wild and intense pulse. I cling to him desperately, both seeking relief and never wanting the moment to end. His grip on me tightens as he begins to moan incoherent sweet nothings into my ear.

We hold each other there for a long time, not really looking at each other and not saying anything. I don't know how long we're there for before he makes the first move away from the embrace. He goes into the small bathroom for a moment as I reach up to pull the covers over myself, to ward off the chill in the room. Really, the only benefit to sleeping on the boat is the warmth provided by sharing covers and body heat with someone, because it still gets fairly cool at night.

He comes back across the floor with a smile and gets under the covers with me. "So…"

"So…" I trail off just as awkwardly. "That was new."

"Yeah, it was new," he says, moving in and kissing me gently. "I love you so much, Joey. I want you to stay here with me like this forever."

I smile, feeling my cheeks heat up with his heartfelt admission. "And where else would I go? I'm pretty certain you're the only other person in the world for me."

He smiles again and kisses me gently, letting me wrap myself up in him again. We both know what this trip is going to be about, and we both know that it's going to be amazing.

"Good morning, beautiful." He says, waking me with a soft kiss on the cheek. I open my eyes to find him kneeling beside the bed and I groan the groan of one who has been awakened.

"Mmm…good morning," I say, stretching as I feel the aches in my muscles spring to life. It feels like I slept in one position all night, which is not improbable for how groggy I feel. I slap aimlessly at the rim of his baseball cap. "Do you need help getting the sails up?"

"Nope." He says brightly. "It's all done and we're probably half a mile out by now. I just wanted you to come up and enjoy the sun before it gets too warm. But you can stay down here and sleep, too. Whichever you want."

I smile and pull him close to me by the collar of his sweatshirt. I kiss him soundly. "I want you to come back to bed."

"See, I knew it. It's like a curse, really. Once you've had The Pacey Love, you're insatiable."

"The Pacey Love?" I ask skeptically. "Is that a name brand product I wasn't aware of?"

"Only the best of the best," he says confidently. "At least, that's what I've been told. I guess I could ask your opinion before I start spouting these things off."

I sit up, pulling the covers with me and smooth my hair out of my eyes. He reaches up to finish the job by tucking it behind my ear and I smile at the gesture. "It was fine. I mean, to be fair, I don't exactly have a basis of comparison."

"Even on the scale of no comparison, I only get a 'fine'?" He asks skeptically, suddenly leaping on top of me and pushing me back down on to the bed in a single, agile movement. "We'll just have to remedy that right here and now."

I smile at him patiently and run my fingers through his hair. "Pace, all that's going to matter is that I shared it with you. It's a night I'll remember forever, even if the sex wasn't the most magical experience I've ever had."

By now, he's caught the glint of evil in my eye. He pushes himself away, playfully indignant. "Oh fine, I see how it is."

I pull him close to me. "Seriously come back to bed."

He smiles gently. "I'll tell you what. Get up and take a warm shower with the last of the water that we have before we hit our next port, and then we'll talk. With the way you slept last night, I guarantee your muscles are going to be all sore."

"How did I sleep?"

"Like a board. You barely moved at all."

"Well, maybe you wore me out," I tease as I let the covers slip down into my lap.

"Maybe that was the point," he teases back. "I just want to make you so tired you never leave my bed."

I smile at the simple thought, and I'm overwhelmed again by the simplicity of my feelings when I'm with him. I feel warm, happy, and strong. I feel like every bad thing that has happened in my life is a lifetime away, and the only time that exists is here and now. The only two people in the world right now are him and me, and the world consists only of this boat and the water that propels us along.

This is when the thought comes crashing in, elbowing the fragile happiness in the gut and taking over with blunt force, that nothing lasts forever. This is not a fleeting thought for me, but has always been my reality. All good things must come to an end. I just wish sometimes that the ending would be of my own choosing, and not that of spiteful destiny. It's not that I really even believe in destiny. The only thing I believe in is the knowledge you're on the right path for yourself or not. You can feel the difference in your life when you're going astray, just because you aren't happy. It's not as though the course is fated; I think that the decisions I make change the course, however slightly, until I've shaped the course of my whole life with individual choices, individual footsteps along the way. I feel like this particular juncture is both critical and fleeting.

"Where did you go?" He asks with a chuckle. 

I give him a small, guarded smile. "No where. I'm still right here."

My soft voice seems to appease him. "I'm going to go break out that fruit you bought for breakfast," he says, rubbing my arm gently. "I'll see you on the deck in a few minutes?"

I nod slowly as I watch him turn and walk above deck. I smile at his retreating form, appreciating the shape of his legs as he moves. I love the smell he leaves behind on the covers, and I love the tingling he leaves behind under my skin where his touch has burned through. They say money can burn through your pocket, but I think it has nothing on the way his touch burns straight through to my heart. It's like I'm burying every moment there for my memory to treasure forever. I guess it's better this way, right? I know how it's going to end instead of the mystery that usually surrounds relationships. Usually, you don't know if or when it will crash and burn, and I've been an impartial witness to many different shapes and sizes of crashes and burns.

I move steadily through the motions of waking up and shaking off my melancholy, cynical train of thought. I shower quickly, because there isn't as much warm water as he left me to believe, and then I'm struck by a sudden urge, one that I buried years ago.

My current contentedness has everything to do with the ease and familiarity I employ to locate a small notepad and a pencil. I wouldn't call my state of mind melancholy, but instead contentedness. I'm at peace with the fact that things with Pacey have to end in a few months, and I'm at peace with the fact that we have now exchanged something undeniable. As much as things have gone way too fast, and everything is definitely out of my closely examined character, I'm okay with the fact that we'll part eventually. 

I make my way up to the deck, clad only in a close fitting print tank top, shorts, and sunglasses. He's sitting at the helm, not moving the wheel but staring toward the open sea, an open calm expression cloaking his beautiful face. I smile and take a seat on the bench in his periphery. For the first time since high school, I feel the burn of artistic creativity and begin to sketch straight from the heart.

He lets me continue on in this vein for hours, allowing the content silence to wash over us both, before he appears behind me with a smile and a small nibble on my earlobe. "You're going to get sunburned out here if you stay too long."

I smile and turn my face into his. "I put sunscreen on."

"Well, it wasn't all that long ago that you just wanted me to come back to bed." He says warmly. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Drawing," I say simply.

"Since when do you draw?" His voice is curious and soft, sparking a realization in me.

Somehow, I thought he knew everything about me. I thought all had been revealed. I smile. "Well, I had a brief love affair with art before my interest turned forever to the written word. I guess you could say I lost my inspiration to draw."

"And you were suddenly inspired again?" He asks, coming around to sit facing me.

"I guess you could say that."

"You know, we could probably get you some real art supplies of some kind." He says with a furrowed brow. "Somehow I doubt your art teachers would appreciate pencil creations on college rule."

I smile, lifting a hand up to his cheek and feeling the rough texture of stubble. "Somehow I doubt they're going to be seeing it."

He pauses for a beat before he looks up at me earnestly. "Can I see it?" 

I feel a furious blush creep into my cheeks, although I'm sure the sun-kissed tan of my complexion hides most of it. I pass the pages I've been laboring over to him. He studies them for several minutes before he speaks. "These are all of me."

"My teacher told me one time to draw what was in my heart." I sigh. "I didn't know what that meant at the time, because by then I'd already kind of lost the vision that had allowed me to draw and paint." I swallow hard, letting my eyes slip to meet his. "I put away all the art supplies Bessie had bought for my fourteenth birthday that night and I transferred out of the class the next day. I haven't touched a brush since that night."

"So what's with the sudden burst of artistic stimulation?"

"I don't know how to explain it. It's like an old friend coming for an unplanned visit." My mouth curls up at the edge, tilting just slightly into the bare happiness I feel around him all the time. "I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your things."

"No," He says. He closes my hand firmly over the pencil. "Keep them."

I tuck my drawings more tightly into his palm. "You, too."

He lovingly traces the hair that has long since dried with curl. "I had a brief affair with the acoustic guitar when I was sixteen," he says. "I only wrote a couple of songs before it became obvious that I was horrible at it. Most of what I played was by ear, songs that I was familiar with or songs that I liked, but eventually the desire to play faded away. Sometimes when I'm with you, I find myself humming an old song or thinking of words to a new one, but it never comes out quite right. It's not quite everything I would tell you if I could find the words." 

My eyes linger over his face as he watches me digest this information. "What would you tell me if you could find the words?" I ask finally, my voice breathless and light. 

His head drops with a self-deprecating smile. "I don't know, really. You're the writer."

I accept the answer, unsure I'm ready for the onslaught of words swimming in his eyes. "And you inspire me to draw again."

Somehow, though, I think I said the exact words he was looking for as his breathing quickens and his head dips into mine to kiss me. I immediately warm to the contact and press myself closer to him, casting the paper and pencil aside. I note the top sheet of paper blowing away in a gentle wind, but just barely as I lose myself inside him for the second time.

We docked with a company just off of Front Street a day and a half ago, having taken our sweet time to get there. The plan was to spend a couple of days on Key West, snorkeling and shopping. Pacey insists that I have to see the Sunset Fest tonight before we leave in the morning to sail up to the next island.

"Are you sure that's all you want?" He asks skeptically. I sketched my way through his entire paper collection on our way down here. It's like wildfire, only with creativity. I can't explain it and I certainly can't stop it. I didn't tell him that I plan to turn at least a few of the sketches into paintings once we get home. We found an art gallery on Duval Street yesterday morning that also sells some basic art supplies, and he made me stop and pick out what I wanted, discussing the prices of the items with the manager as I made my way around the art gallery. He won't let me pay him back. 

"I'm sure." I smile and squeeze his hand lightly. I just picked a basic set of charcoals, a sketch pad, and some pencils. "I wish you'd let me pay you back, though."

"You can find other ways to pay me back."

"Oh, I see how it is now that you've gotten into my pants," I tease lightly. He looks over at me with a smile, the shadow of memory hidden in his eyes. To say we've enjoyed each other's company thus far would be to put it mildly.

"You should've known," he tosses back with a simple, unaffected shrug. 

"You should've known I would change my mind, then."

Our back and forth about the subject matter is simple now, the conversation well worn between us so that the words carry no bite. Instead, we slip into our own minds for a while as we walk down the crowded street of tourists, shops, and restaurants.

It's like I can't get enough of him. After the initial period of melancholy I felt before I started drawing, it's like I can barely stand it if he isn't touching me somehow. We sleep closer to each other, we hold hands and touch and kiss all the time. Sure, before any of this, we would make out and hold hands, but there was always that hesitation that came with a touch. All the touch would do was light a fire we weren't quite prepared to fight. Now that it's been quenched, it's stronger than I imagined it could be. How could being with someone make you want to be with them _more_?

I'm in too deep, it's plain and simple. This past month, everything has spun out of my control with one simple decision. I made the choice to come down here, and I haven't had a say in anything else since then. I'm willing to be swept away with the tide; I've been good at just going with the flow. Somehow, until now, it's felt like I've been going against the grain, though. My personality and my psyche have been arguing with me the entire time, pulling in a constant battle between my actions and my thoughts. All of that has let go, finally. I guess in a way, I've finally disconnected myself from the life I've lived before.

I look over at him, whistling a tune I don't recognize and randomly swinging the plastic sack carrying my art supplies. He's studying the scenery as we walk through it, as if he's committing each and every tourist to memory, as if he's recalling every plank of wood and every brick. He said that Key West is, by far, his favorite island. He's only been here a couple of times, first when he sailed down after he graduated from high school, and again during the winter. He doesn't say it in so many words, but I think he came here for Christmas. I think he came somewhere he felt at home, somewhere that could swallow him whole without spitting him back out. That thought makes me a little sad.

"Pace?" I ask, my voice startling both of us out of our thoughts.

"Yeah?"

I take a deep breath before I plunge ahead carefully, not sure what I'm going to find in the murky depths here. "Do you think you'll ever reconcile things with your family?"

He looks away, and takes a long, steady breath, before he turns back to me. "I don't know. For a long time, I thought that I would leave after graduation and never look back. Really, that's how I've felt for almost the whole year I've been down here. But for some reason, I've been thinking about it more lately, and I think that it's possible." He pauses for brief consideration. "It's possible, but still far off. Maybe it'll happen when I'm married with a family of my own, if that ever happens. I would at least want my children to know their grandparents, even if it were only for holidays and family occasions." He shrugs. "I've been thinking that if your family can stay together through everything that's happened, maybe I could forgive my family, too." 

I haven't told him what Bessie has said about our father. He stayed at the B&B with her for a couple of weeks before he moved away; he said he wanted 'to find a clean slate'. He said he didn't want to 'burden us with his return.' He wanted to make something decent and honest of himself before he really came back into our lives. Bessie told him not to come back at all, knowing her own bitterness and knowing of mine. "Well, not to jump in with a cloudburst or anything, but I don't know that my family has stayed together, exactly. Bessie and I have our familial struggles just like any other family."

He sighs. "But in the end, you share a future. You share a life. You keep it all together, in spite of all that."

I nod. "We do. She's my rock, and I don't know where I would be today if she had never agreed to keep me." I give him a sideways glance, studying his reaction carefully. "I think we all need someone like that to lean on. We need someone who can be our rock from time to time. You need to find that person in your family if you really want to hold on."

He waits a long time before he speaks, as we come to a halting stop in front of a small bistro. I study the paint chipping away from the wooden planks, imagining the possibility of a coat of paint. It could be any color, effectively changing the character of the building. I smile and bow my head as I consider that this summer is _my_ new coat of paint. My character will be forever altered by him. I feel myself change a little more as he speaks his next words carefully, interrupting our thoughtful silence.

"Would you be my rock for a little while?" 

His somber eyes meet mine as he takes my hands and looks at me very seriously. "I don't know if I'm up to it," I say, searching his eyes for confirmation. "I'm damaged goods myself, you know."

"You're stronger than you know."

I sigh, knowing I can't promise to be something for him that I'll never have the chance to be. I can't support him through his struggles with his family, because the fact of the matter is that we don't have time. But I would if I could. "So are you."

He smiles softly. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Maybe it's the prolonged eye contact, the deep undercurrent of emotion, or simply the salt in the oceanic breeze. Any possible combination of these things tears in my eyes. I look over his shoulder, and I know my eyes widen perceptibly, matched by another pair of disbelieving eyes. Pacey frowns, one hand untangling from mine and reaching for my face.

"Jo?" He asks uncertainly.

It seems he's the only one capable of speaking for a moment before the reality I've kept at bay comes crashing in. "It's my dad."

"What about him?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder quickly. He looks to me again and by then, I'm pointing. Pacey turns around to face my slightly stunned father. It's endearing, how he turns his whole body around as if he's trying to shield me. His hand fumbles behind him, reaching for me. 

"Dad?" I ask, my throat feeling numb. I accept Pacey's hand easily, knowing that what we said moments before has been reversed suddenly and painfully. I'm going to need him to be my rock now as I sort out my problems. 

"Hi, Joey." My dad says finally, approaching slowly.

"Dad?" I ask again, my throat growing tighter by the minute. My eyes narrow in disbelief. "How are you here?" 

"I should ask you the same thing. Bessie said you were in Florida, but I thought you were on the mainland. I never thought it was possible…" He stops suddenly, as if he realizes that Pacey is blocking me from him. "And she didn't mention a boyfriend."

My eyes slip closed. I've told Bessie precious little about Pacey. It isn't that I've been dishonest with her, exactly, as it is that I've been cautiously discreet. "That's because she doesn't know."

Pacey whirls around, his eyes narrow. "_What_?"

I feel the tears, in place because of a different wash of emotion, leak down my cheeks. "I…I…" I stammer, reaching for words and finding nothing. I refuse to terminate my grip on his hands, desperately searching for any sort of middle ground to keep myself from drowning. "To say our relationship has been strained is an understatement and…"

"And you're going to get it back by lying to her?" He asks, furrowing his brow in hurt and misunderstanding.

I stomp and pull away from him. "Can I figure out one life trauma at a time here?" 

His face hardens and he steps away from me. "Yeah. I'll just…I'll just see you later." He begins to walk away.

"Pacey, wait!" I say, looking desperately at my confused father and then to the retreating boyfriend. "That's not what I—" I'm starting out toward the direction he's headed when my dad stops me with a hand on my arm.

"Let him go," he says quietly. 

I whirl around on him, forgetting for a moment to be careful and introverted. "No! I'm not like you! I can't just forget about people that I love!"

"So you'll leave me standing here to go after him." He says simply.

"Dad, you don't understand, okay?" I wipe angrily at my cheeks. "I've already forgotten about you! To me you are dead and buried and I never visit you!"

His face falls. "Joey…"

I shrug, tears now falling unabashedly down my cheeks. "I just can't do this right now." My hands motion for him to release me, and he steps away as if he's been burned. "I'm not strong enough."

"You've made it this far," he says sadly.

"I've made it this far without you." I bite my lip, feeling all of the anger and sadness and disappointment I've been building up for a decade bubble to the surface. "And Pacey…he's done nothing to deserve any of this. He's the innocent bystander that just got run over. That's where my concern is now."

"Are you going back home?" My dad asks me, in the first real fatherly tone I've heard in a long time. The sound is weak and falls flat to my ears. It's too little, too late.

"I don't know," I admit for the first time, my heart beating wildly in my chest. "I just know that I love him." I back away quickly, offering a shrug as my only explanation. I turn and run in the direction Pacey headed, and find him nearing the end of the street toward the docks.

"Pacey!" I call, not surprised in the slightest when he doesn't turn around. I run for a moment longer and stop dejectedly when I see him turn the corner. While it's true that I've made leaps and bounds socially so far this summer, it's also true that I don't know how to deal with this. I don't know how to assuage his anger or explain myself. I don't know how to stop shaking or crying from an unexpected encounter with my unwelcome father, let alone how to react to an unwelcome encounter with this boy who has come so unexpectedly.

I start to wander just a little, feeling lost and alone in this unfamiliar place. I have no idea where he could've gone. This island is not exactly small, no matter how cramped it felt a minute ago. From here, the only place I know how to get to is the boat, and I'm feeling just the slightest bit smart because I can do that.

I'm not smart where it comes to this relationship stuff. It's been easy with Pacey, because somehow, he just understands me. He gets me in a way no one has bothered to before, and he makes me comfortable. It's easy for me to open up and talk to him, to tell him how I'm really feeling. Somehow, the words flow freely when I'm with him and I don't think about having any censors until I've passed the time I should stop talking. I know I'm rambling because of the secret smile he gets on his face, the way he props his head onto his hand to just listen, and the way he'll reach for my hand as I flush in embarrassment and realize that I've overstepped my bounds a little more.

I know that he isn't going to give me those kinds of cues to work my way through this. I saw, but didn't recognize, the expression on his face. If I didn't recognize that, I'm not going to recognize anything else until we settle this.

Maybe I should just wander for a while. It would give him time to calm down, and let my tears dry a little more. They feel poised under the surface there, just waiting for the next hard thing to drag them out, and I hate that feeling.

Instead of wandering, as my heart seems to desperately want, my feet lead me straight back to the boat. Even if he isn't here, even if he needs to wander for a while, I'll be here when he gets back. I don't know what I'll do then, I don't know how I'll explain this away.

My feet, which so desperately wanted to be here just moments ago, stop dead in their tracks as I enter the small cabin of the boat. He's lying in a hammock by himself, reading something I don't recognize. I swallow hard and look at him until I've lost track of time. He doesn't stir, except for the occasional turning of pages.

"What are you reading?" I finally ask, feeling as though I've sufficiently pushed the tears away.

"The Little Mermaid," he says, his voice concise without being sharp. He doesn't look up from the book, doesn't appear to be interrupted in the slightest.

I sigh. "Are we talking the version with color illustrations or…"

He finally looks over at me with a smirk. "No, smart ass. I am capable of reading complete sentences. On a good day, I can read several of them in a row. I believe they call that a paragraph."

"Well, color me impressed," I say, using the soft edge of sarcasm to step more closely to him, but we fall silent again. "You can understand why I haven't told Bessie about us, can't you?"

"No."

The ever present tears spring forth again at his simple, dismissive tone. "You saw the fight of astronomical proportions that occurred with my coming down here, right?"

"Yes."

"Times it by at least ten, and you might have a hint of her reaction about you. If Bessie thinks, even for a moment, that I abandoned our family to be with a boy, the fallout would be disastrous." I look away from him and down at my fidgeting hands.

"How so?"

"She sent Bodie away for two years because the job he found with a cruise line paid triple what he could've made at home. She sacrificed two years with him because it was better for our family. If I sacrificed our family for a boy, she would see it as selfish and she wouldn't understand. She would still expect me to come home. I was planning on telling her all about you when the summer was over and I was back at home."

He puts the open book down in his lap for a moment. "I can't imagine keeping you from anyone who is important to me, because you're important, too."

I shrug uncomfortably. "I didn't mean it that way. It isn't that you aren't important to me, because you are."

"So…your dad, huh?"

I look away again, knowing that this will be an uncomfortable topic. "Yeah, it looks that way." I approach him, feeling as though we've dispelled the more major of the two issues. "I didn't know he was down here."

"I gathered that from the look on your face."

"Did I tell you that he went home a few weeks ago?"

"You mentioned it, but that was all."

"He also left. He told Bessie that he didn't want to be a burden to us, that he was going to go and try to make something honest of himself before he came home."

He looks at me directly, the heat of his gaze making me shift feet a little uncomfortably. "And how do you feel about that?"

I can't look away from him again, not with his eyes on me like that. It's as if that glance draws absolute truth from me, whether I'm willing to give it or not. "I don't think he'll be coming back home." I clamp my hand over my mouth, unable to believe that I actually said something so spiteful.

He looks a little shocked as well. "You really need to work out these issues with him."

"It's easier to just bury them."

"I know from experience that isn't true."

"Well, it's a little hard to believe that he's turning over a new leaf. He's breaking his parole by being down here. He was given special permission to go to Boston. I'm pretty sure that, when leaving the town takes special consideration, leaving the state would be considered criminal."

"Maybe he needs to go somewhere that he's isn't already considered a criminal. Boston isn't that far from home for you."

"Pacey…" I whine a little and tilt my head to the side. "I don't think now is the time or place to delve into my daddy issues. I'm not ready to do it, and I know I'm not. I'm taking one major personality flaw at a time here. I'm still wrapping up the 'issues with sexuality' thing."

He rolls over and smiles, holding an arm out to me. "No you're not. I don't think you ever had problems with that."

"Maybe just slight discomfort?" I say, stepping gingerly into the hammock with him for some snuggling.

He kisses my forehead. "So, would that count as our first official fight?"

I sigh as I snuggle into his warmth. "I don't think so. It would just count as me being a dumbass, and that's nothing new."

"I think it counts as a fight, because then we can have make up sex. And I personally know several people who actually pick fights so they can have make up sex. It's supposed to be that hot."

"Has it been in your experience?"

"You're assuming that I've cared enough to make up after a fight with other girls."

"You've never had make up sex?" I ask skeptically.

"No. The only fights Andie and I really ever had was about having had sex too soon or about her having had sex with someone else. Neither of those easily translated into a romantic atmosphere."

"Oh…" I say softly as he begins running his hand lightly over my side, inching my tank top higher up on my stomach. "So what does translate into a romantic atmosphere?" 

"You and me, post-fight, with some take out and candles. Yeah?"

I pull away slightly to look at him skeptically. "I don't know if it could be considered post-fight, since I haven't apologized yet. And I don't know if a real fight could be ended that quickly." The corner of my mouth turns up in a smile. "Maybe we should just have regular in love sex and save the make up sex for another time."

He smiles. "I like the way you think. That way, I get laid twice."

"I'm crafty like that."

"Maybe you're just using me for my body. That's probably something I'll fight with you about at some point."

"After I caught you staring at your own ass in the mirror yesterday, I'm not sure I'd fight back."

He chuckles. "That's nothing. I caught Doug rubbing himself down with oil in Gretchen's room one day, because he claimed that the lighting in there was better for checking out his muscles."

I laugh out loud. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm totally serious. He had just started doing a whole bodybuilding thing, complete with the Creatine and protein shakes, and he wanted to see how it was."

"What did you do?"

"I did what every self-respecting little brother would do. I told Gretchen about it about the time Doug came back to the house later that night with a girl. I'm pretty sure that was the only date he ever went on with her, and I'm pretty sure the information circulated like wildfire around the high school the next day."

I cover my mouth to stifle the laughter. The little sister in me wishes, down deep, that I'd had that prime opportunity. The rest of me wishes my childhood had been that normal. "At least the rumor wasn't spread about you." My face falls, thinking about what Bessie and I endured during our formative years, minus the average sibling rivalry.

"No, but there were plenty of those," he admits quietly.

I realize again, for our differences, how similar we really are. "Well, if you don't satisfy me soon, I might be tempted to start some really unflattering rumors down here."

"Hey," he says on a chuckle. "There's no need to get nasty here." He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes sarcastically. "Honestly, I told you it would be like this. Once you've had The Pacey Love, all you want is more."

I forget for a moment that we're in a hammock, and I push at him as I laugh at his comment. The hammock flips us both, and I land on top of him in the doggy pile, pressed intimately to his upper thighs. I reach up and tuck my hair behind my ear as he smiles.

"Now why does _this_ seem so familiar?" He asks with a smile, and he raises his head up to kiss me.

I pull away from the kiss after a while and rub at my knee. "Probably because it's happened before." I wince slightly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," I assure him, moving over beside him on the floor so he can sit up himself. I reach for the book gingerly. It looks old, the pages worn to a deep yellow, and the cover of tattered leather a faded shade of brown. "You said this is The Little Mermaid?"

"Yeah," he says, watching me carefully as I examine the book. "The original one by Hans Christian Andersen. It was written in 1836."

"Is this copy that old?"

"Funny," he says, taking it from me gently. "No. It was my grandfather's, though. He was an avid scuba diver and he used to read it to me and tell me it was confirmation that we should explore what was beneath the sea, because there is a line that says 'we must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon land'." He smiles wistfully and gently fidgets with the book as he continues.

"I remember telling him, as a jaded ten-year-old, that it was nothing more than fiction." He looks up at me with a glint in his eye. "He introduced me to the fact that truth is often stranger than fiction. The next summer, I got my junior diver certification and my love affair with the ocean began."

I smile at his recollection. "I've only witnessed the Disney version, and only because my mother insistently bought it as she did all Disney movies. I think she wanted us to find a place for fairy tales in our lives." I roll my eyes on a sigh. "At the very least, I think she always wanted us to live happily ever after."

"You've never read The Little Mermaid and you call yourself a bookworm?"

"I don't call myself that." I scoff. "Other people do."

He chuckles. "Well, this is a must read." He stands with minor difficulty and reaches his hand out. "Let's go sit up on the deck for a while and I'll read to you."

I smile at the sweet simplicity of his way to pass an afternoon. We could be enjoying the island, we could be eating lunch, or we could be at an art gallery. Instead, he wants to read to me. Oddly, I think it's the most romantic way to spend this time with him.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: **__You can tell where the major break in writing came because this is one of the first parts I've included a song with. Although the title and artist are included at the end of the lyrics, I'll post it here in case you want to look up the song. It's called __**I Am the Rain **__by __**Vedera**__. They are amazing and one of the few bands who is even better live._

_

* * *

_

"Itching to go for a run, are you?" Pacey teases lightly as I lace up my tennis shoes.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. _"_There's _one _island in all of the Florida Keys with a proper place to go running? Plus, all that cheesecake you made me eat isn't going to work itself off."

He chuckles. "Trust me; you have a lot to be concerned about."

I shoot him a deadly look of warning, despite his thick sarcasm. "I'm not the one who was bitching about their jeans not fitting right the other night."

"Hey, hey!" He says defensively, approaching me from behind and wrapping his arms around me. "What possible need existed to go there?"

I turn around as much as I can and raise an eyebrow at him. "You started it."

"I usually do," he says amiably. "You might as well get used to that."

"I already am." I say, turning to survey him evenly. "Are you ready to run?"

"I'm ready."

I smile at him and take his hand. The walk from the docks to the park isn't far. I guess we could've run on the beach, but the beach here is so littered with mostly naked tourists, as compared to the more private beach behind Jen's house, that it makes me a little uncomfortable. I was very relieved when Pacey mentioned this park on Key Largo that had running trails.

We departed Key West early, not looking back, heading for the opportunity to run. We haven't discussed the situation with my father's sudden appearance any further than we did to end our disagreement, but I know that it's on his mind. I can see it in the way he looks at me, all concerned. He swore last night, after the book reading, that he didn't want to fool around. He kept me close to him as he slept, even closer than normal, to the point that I removed all the covers because I was too warm. I know a lot of people would consider that smothering, but I knew he was only doing it because of his concern and I couldn't deny him whatever comfort he was seeking. Actually, I was okay with it, because I wanted the same comfort.

I look over at him concernedly as we reach the trailhead. He's all pensive and quiet, which is not particularly normal for Pacey. I feel my mouth dip into a small frown and I bend down to secure my shoelaces before we start walking.

He looks over at me and flashes a small, reassuring smile my direction. Unfortunately, it falls on deaf ears because I know that he's thinking deeply about something. This is normally the point where I would mind my own business, because deep and messy feelings scare the crap out of me. With him, though, it's different. All I want to do, quite literally, is turn that frown upside down.

We run the first third of the trail in total silence before we settle into our well-practiced rhythm. I'm finally so overcome with the urge to have him say _anything_ that I have to say something myself.

"Okay, Pace. What gives?"

"Huh?"

"You've obviously got something on your mind. How about you give me a hint here?"

He gives a long sigh before he looks over at me, his face completely open and honest. "What are you going to do about your dad?"

"You're asking me if I'm going to turn him in or not," I say, just wanting to rephrase his question so I understand.

"Yes."

I sigh. "I haven't thought about it, to be honest. I'm still trying to get over the shock of seeing him."

He nods. "That's fair, I suppose."

"But what kind of a daughter would I be to turn my father in? I mean, I turned him in once already. How could I do that to him again when he may have a chance of getting on with his life?"

Pacey sighs. "Wouldn't you rather see him going about it honestly, though?"

I look over at him patiently. "He hasn't done anything else honestly in his life. Why would this surprise any of us?"

He shoots a sideways look at me, only facing forward when he's about to run into a large tree limb overhanging the pathway. We both chuckle about his near collision for a second before he responds. "It would also be a prime opportunity for some revenge."

"Revenge doesn't do anything to make you stronger," I counter immediately. "I used to think of all the things I could do to get revenge, to hurt him really deeply. In the end, I realized that all it did was turn me into a weaker person for it. That's not the kind of person I want to be." I clear my throat. "I don't think I could do it again, honestly."

"When did you turn your father in the first time?" He asks, scowling deeply.

I sigh. "It was so long ago. When they suspected he was dealing drugs, but didn't know for sure, the town sheriff asked for my help. At first I refused, but there was a fire one night at our family restaurant. That night, we should've been there. Every Tuesday night after my mom died, we had the biggest joke of a family dinner you could imagine. It was usually late, after the restaurant had closed. That night, Bessie had confronted my dad about his affair, and we had all gone to our corners to lick our wounds instead of family dinner. The restaurant burned to the ground, and it was determined that it was arson. That kind of turned the tide, because I realized that he was putting our whole family in danger. I had a sister and a nephew to think about in addition to myself." I look over at him to gauge his reaction. "I finally got my revenge, but I did it with my sister and Alex in mind." I can feel tears coming to my eyes, tears that I desperately want to control. I don't want to cry for him anymore. There has been more than one time that I felt the tears had all run out, but it's never been the case. "Bessie couldn't wear the wire because they weren't on speaking terms after their fight. But I could wear it because he'd never been anything but unflinchingly honest with me. So I did what was being asked of me, I got his admission on tape, and based on that admission, he went to jail for a long time."

"God, Joey…" He shakes his head. "No one should have to go through that, especially on account of another person." He closes his eyes tightly and his fists ball at his sides. "If I would've known that, my hurt feelings would've been secondary."

"He's my dad, Pace." I say, reaching out to touch his shoulder. With a simple touch, I feel him relax underneath my finger tips. "You can't call my dad out in the middle of the street."

"I could take him," he says, glancing over at me long enough that I see the glint of joking in his eyes.

"I'm not going to argue the finer points of that," I say, his humor provoking a smile from me. "However, that's not how I ever want it to go down. If he's around, just focus on me and not him. I'm going to need all of you."

He smiles brightly. "You've got me."

"Exactly _how_ do I have you?"

"However you want me."

"So naked and underneath me is within question?"

He lets in a shaky breath before he looks at me. "Is that any way to talk to the man who held you through your emotional trauma last night instead of having his way with you?"

I let my hand fall down his back lightly, tracing the curve of shoulder muscle all the way down to his ass, where I grab a good handful and squeeze. "Maybe I wanted the best of both worlds."

"Let me get this straight," he begins, coming to a stop in the middle of the path and looking around carefully. "You're telling me that you're horny?" I feel the blush start in, and I look down shyly. He tilts my head back up to face him. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. Just so you're aware, I'm here for your servicing."

I smack at him playfully. "You don't have to be so crude about it!"

He chuckles and pulls me close to him. "All I'm trying to say is that I'm never going to shoot you down or anything. I guarantee anytime you want to have sex, I'm on board."

I bite my lip and look around for good measure. "So if I said I wanted you, right here and right now, you'd be open to that?"

"I would if I had a condom on me," he says regretfully. "But I left it in my other pants."

I smile. "No, you didn't." He raises an eyebrow at me as I reach down my shirt awkwardly to pull a condom out of my bra. I smile up at him innocently. He just looks shocked.

"Are you serious? You're the best girlfriend ever," he says, his voice nothing more than a growl.

"I even brought a Ziploc so we can carry it back and dispose of it properly, which I realize is kind of gross to think about, but…"

"No, no. I'm just glad you thought this through." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "To be honest, I'm surprised I wasn't the one who thought of it. I'm all for illicit liaisons. In fact, I think of myself as the poster child…"

"Shhh…." I say, planting a soft kiss on his lips and pressing against him so I can feel how excited he really is in the wake of my unexpected proposition. I pull him backwards into the forest-like undergrowth of shrubs and bushes.

I'm slightly embarrassed by my straightforward approach as I shove his shorts over his hips without ceremony and put the condom on him. I push my own shorts down and step out of them before I wrap my legs around his waist firmly. I kiss him hard as he slips inside me, the pressure of my entire weight pressing down and creating a warm, unfamiliar sensation of depth. He holds onto my thighs for balance, and kisses me so hard that I know he feels the difference, too.

Our illicit liaison doesn't last long because we're both so excited by it, by the trying to keep quiet because we're only a few feet from the well-trodden path, and the spontaneous nature of something he hadn't ever thought I would do.

We spill out of the bushes after our clothing has been properly rearranged, laughing heartily and earning a curiously disapproving glance from an older couple out for what looks like a leisurely stroll.

"Hello," Pacey says amiably. "Beautiful day out."

They eye him strangely before they hurry away, beginning a new peal of laughter from us.

Our laughter slowly putters to a stop before he looks at me seriously. "I'm going to remember that moment forever." He says, biting his lip and pulling me next to him. "I love you so much."

I smile at him, but before I can complete the sentiment, he's kissing me again, the warmth of him spreading through my whole body. "Let's go back to the boat." I say on a kissing break.

"I thought we were going to get some coffee after our run." He protests weakly. "I haven't had any good coffee for a couple of days."

"We can go get coffee," I concede.

"And bagels?" He adds. "I'm hungry, too."

"And bagels," I agree.

"Or maybe I want donuts." He says with mock contemplation.

"We can get both," I suggest in my most patient, peacemaking tone.

"Muffins?"

I shake my head quickly. "Deal breaker."

"Damn," he says. He starts jogging in place, and I match his rhythm before we take off together again.

"Have you ever thought of seeking revenge on your father?" I ask. It seems like an odd subject switch, but both of us knew that we weren't finished with this topic yet. There are a lot of uncharted waters here.

"Not really. All I could think about was getting the hell away from him so that I could live my life. That's where you and I are different. Your dad hurt you in a way that you could get revenge. My dad just made it impossible for me to be myself without feeling guilty for it."

"No offense, but I'd take my dad over that any day."

He smirks wryly. "So would I. But no one should ever have to go through everything you've been through, Jo."

"In a lot of ways, it's made me who I am, though." I smile. "I'm starting to be proud of the overly-cautious neurotic freak he made me."

"I'm proud of her, too." He says.

"And I'm proud of the person you are in spite of your father, Pacey." I say seriously. "You're the first person I've ever found that I want to be with. You challenge me and you make me push myself into things I wouldn't do otherwise. I end up loving those things, so I'm always grateful to you for it."

He smiles over at me, a secret smile that he only smiles when I've gone too far somehow. He takes my hand. "Enough of the serious stuff. Coffee?"

I feel myself smile, too, feeling like all of that other stuff is a thousand miles away. It always is when he's around. "Don't forget your bagels and donuts."

"Of course not. The coffee and bagels at the next port suck."

I chuckle and roll my eyes at him as he steers our jogging off of course a little bit, toward the small row of shops visible just beyond the docking area.

As we stretch outside of the coffee shop, waiting for the line to die down a bit before we go inside, I watch the fine line of muscle and bronzed skin that make him up.

"What are you staring at?" He asks with an eyebrow raised.

"You," I say with a small smile. "I have a crazy idea. I think you'll like it."

He chuckles. "What is it?"

"I want a tattoo to remember you by."

"A _what_?" He asks, standing straight up.

"I think you heard me. I want a tattoo."

"What made you think of that?"

"I don't know." I say simply, a smile teasing at the corner of my lips. "I just saw the tattoo shop on the corner and I was thinking that it would be a good way to remember you."

He frowns a little bit, looking over his shoulder to see the tattoo parlor that sits about a block and a half up. "You could try photographs, or a journal."

My smile breaks out. "I know, it's pretty crazy." I peek inside the window of the coffee shop. "I think the line has died down a bit."

He holds the door open for me and goes inside behind me. The air conditioning provides automatic relief from the warm humidity outside and I wonder if coffee is really a good idea. Maybe an iced cappuccino or something.

"I know, it's crazy," I say with a sigh. There are about three people in front of us, so we have a few minutes to wait still. "But it would be permanent, and it could be small. Kind of like our little secret."

"I hate to break it to you, but other people will most likely be in on your little secret eventually."

I lean back against the counter, trying to gauge his reaction. He just seems flat out shocked more than anything else. His words are not harsh or judgmental. "I know, it's just…I want to do something spontaneous."

He looks at me with a smile, and finally reaches around me to retrieve a napkin from the supply bar. He asks to borrow a pen and hands the pair to me. "So design your tattoo. We'll go there after we finish here."

All of a sudden, it creeps up on me that there is a very real possibility I was just talking. "Only if you agree to do it, too."

"Oh, come on. I can't mar a body that already looks this good."

I raise an eyebrow and point the pen at him menacingly. "I could find a way to mar it."

"You should be careful. You like my body the way it is."

"Don't you think it would be kind of fun?" I say, turning around so I can begin drawing. Truthfully, I already know what it's going to be.

"Do you mean fun in the I- heart-Joey kind of way that I have to get tattooed over when you leave because I'm so heartbroken?"

"No!" I smile slowly. "I mean fun in the did-it-together sort of way. Besides, you don't _have _to do it if you don't want to. I just thought it would be an indelible way to remember this forever. You may claim you're going to, but I'm not sure I believe you."

"Why wouldn't you believe me?"

"We ran into someone you dated in February and you couldn't tell me her name."

A blush rises in his cheeks. I know he was more than a little embarrassed by that encounter, and a little more embarrassed that he could get by with a "hey _you_" instead of calling someone by their actual name. "I don't think that's going to be the case with you."

"It's easy to say that now, but how do you really know?" I tease a little more. I told him I was going to get all of the mileage out of it that I possibly could.

He settles close to me from behind, rubbing himself up against me so I can feel that he's still turned on after our encounter while we were running. "I think it's a pretty safe assumption with you."

"I'm not that memorable. Trust me."

"You _are_ that memorable. Trust _me_." He says, rubbing against me a little more as he leans over. "What are you drawing? It's not, like, a skull and crossbones or anything, is it?"

"No!" I say. "You honestly think I would put that on my body indefinitely?"

"Well, until five minutes ago, I didn't know you would put _anything_ on your body indefinitely."

I turn around and hand the napkin to him as the barista asks what we need in the beverage department. Pacey orders two iced mochas, and I have to seriously relive the time since we entered to make sure I didn't state my wishes out loud.

"Very nice," he says, looking at the small rendering of a sailboat while we step out of line to wait for our drinks. "I have to admit, this isn't the first thing that flashed through my mind."

The drawing itself is probably only one inch square, of a small, simple sailboat and waves underneath it. It looks very first-grade. "Really? It isn't too simple?"

"No, honestly, I think it's perfect for something like a tattoo. You don't want something too complicated. I mean, they're going to draw it into your skin with a needle."

"Are you sure that's the process?" I tease. He only raises an eyebrow at me.

"So let's do it," he says simply. "I've thought about doing it a couple of times. I can't think of a better reason for it than remembering such a perfect summer."

"You've thought about doing it before?"

"Well, yeah. But I was really drunk and a couple of guys were going after they lost the poker game."

"So you didn't do it?"

He bites his lip. "Well…have you noticed a tattoo on me?" He asks hesitantly.

"No…"

"I totally chickened out, to be honest. It hurt so badly that I told them to stop after, like, a dot. Fortunately, the people with me were drunk and forgot that I sat down to get one."

I feel the smile spread across my face. "You chickened out because it hurt?"

"Shut up." He says, looking down at the drawing on my napkin. "I think I just might do it because you wouldn't let me live it down."

"I'm not going to make you get a tattoo. I just said that I wanted to." I clear my throat and look over at him. "Do you think they're sexy?"

He contemplates my question for a moment before he looks over at me. "I think they're sexy in moderation. I don't think I could take you seriously if you had a series of tattoos up and down your arm depicting the Peanuts characters playing ball or something." I chuckle at the thought. "But especially if it's somewhere that only I can see…that's okay." He looks over at me with one of those secret smiles. "Where were you thinking of getting it?"

The barista calls Pacey's name and he steps forward just then to collect our coffee. As he comes back to me, we fall right back into the conversation. "I was thinking about my left shoulder blade."

He glances over at me as we stroll out of the coffee shop. "I'll make you a deal, then."

"A body-marring deal?"

"I guess you could call it that." He admits. "I'll do it if you do it. If someone chickens out, they have to catch, clean, and cook the fish for dinner. If we both do it, we find takeout."

The smile crosses my lips almost immediately. I give my coffee a long sip for good measure. "You have yourself a deal, Witter."

_The light was leaving in the west it was blue_

_The children's laughter sang_

_And skipping just like the stones they threw_

_Their voices echoed across the waves_

_It's getting late_

_And it was just another night_

_With the sunset and a moonrise_

_Not so far behind_

_To give us just enough light _

_To lay down underneath the stars_

_We listened to Papa's translations _

_Of the stories across the sky_

_We drew our own constellations_

_The west winds often last too long_

_But when they calm down nothing ever feels the same_

_Sheltered under the Kamani tree_

_Waiting for the passing rain_

_Clouds moving to uncover the sea_

_Stars up above us chasing the day away_

_To find the stories that we sometimes need_

_Listen close enough and all else fades_

_Fades away_

_And it was just another night_

_With a sunset and a moonrise_

_Not so far behind to give us just enough light_

_To lay down underneath the stars_

_Listen to all translations_

_Of the stories across the sky_

_We drew our own constellations_

(Constellations-Jack Johnson)

"_What in the hell is that?"_ Jack asks me as I turn around to untie my shoes. I look over my shoulder at him with a smirk of amusement and confusion.

"What?"

"That…" he starts to futilely gesture with his left hand in a flapping motion, "that _thing_ on your shoulder."

I feel a blush rise through my cheeks automatically as I right myself and look at him skeptically. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the boat on your shoulder."

"What boat on my shoulder?" I ask, moving over to pour myself some coffee. "Honestly, Jack. You aren't making any sense."

He shrugs as he took in a sip of his coffee. "Whatever, Jo. We both know I'm making _perfect_ sense." He gives me his best conspirator's wink. He gives a long, drawn out sigh.

"What's the bug up your butt?" I ask. I sit down next to him and watch him with real concern. It's the first time I've seen him since Pacey and I docked two days ago. To say that I've been wrapped up in Pacey is an understatement, and it's been difficult to sleep and function separately. This morning, I broke away from the boat early and insisted that I wanted to run on my own. Pacey seemed a little upset by it, but I carefully explained that I had a lot to think about. Today is my day to call Bessie, and I still haven't decided if I'm going to tell her about our dad.

"I broke up with Ben," he says flatly, studying my face for a reaction.

He gets one, and it is somewhat shocked. "What happened? Things were going so well for you when we left."

He shrugs and looks down at the mug, where his index fingers are tracing over a crack in the handle. "Do you ever feel like you're changing your identity too much to be with someone?" he asks carefully, looking up at me with guarded eyes.

I frown. This is somewhere my lack of experience is going to hurt. I have little to no advice for him. "I've never felt that way, no."

"Really?" he asks in disbelief. "I mean, _really_? Because I think you've changed a lot since you started dating Pacey."

My stomach drops and I automatically push my coffee away from me. "Jack," I say with a bitter warning in my tone.

"Just wander back to the beginning of the summer with me. It's only been six weeks. You were totally different. And I just…I don't know. I broke up with Ben because it felt like things were going so fast. We're down here where everything is truncated and different. I understand how easy it can be, how appealing it is to lose yourself in someone else, especially when it's the first time you've had a taste of affection."

I swallow hard against the thick current of tears in the back of my throat. "That sounds an awful lot like a judgment from you, Jack."

"It's not a judgment," he says uneasily. If possible, it looks like he's fidgeting more with the mug now as his discomfort increases. "It's a concerned observation." He looks up at me, suddenly looking a little angry. "It's just a little hard to reconcile the person that came down here with us and the person sitting in front of me right now."

"Jack…" I attempt to cut in weakly, starting to feel the tears sneak in.

"Just listen to me please? I'm not your sister; I'm a more objective outsider trying to show you what your behavior has been like. Andie's already left because of it, a—"

"What?" I ask, disbelieving. I haven't heard anything about Andie's departure.

He rubs his hands over his face awkwardly. "Andie left while you and Pacey were gone. She said it was too hard to see you together and to hear about how happy he was when she was so obviously miserable."

"And what does that have to do with me? It's no secret that Andie has a lot of problems to begin with and I'm sure whatever stress she's felt here has just compounded what was already going on."

"Watch what you say about my sister," he warns with a dangerous growl.

"And watch what you say to me," I respond indignantly. "Just tell me what you're actually getting at here, because I think you're veering dangerously into territory that is none of your business."

"I think that you and Pacey are too serious, and you're only going to end up getting hurt because you're going to do something you'll regret, if you haven't already."

"Jack, it's my choice. He hasn't forced me into anything."

"He's the kind of person that will leave you high and dry when the moment comes to test his character."

"Are you saying that because your sister is so hurt?" I ask warily. "I mean, I know that she didn't come through the whole thing unscathed at all, and I hate to say it because I wasn't an eyewitness, but it seems to me that the whole thing was brought about by her actions."

"Her actions combined with his inability to forgive."

Something inside me goes numb. "You know nothing about him or me!" I explode, standing up suddenly and sending the chair underneath me tumbling to the ground.

"I know enough to see what's happening, Joey, and I'm not afraid to call it how I see it. You're getting yourself in way over your head."

"Hey," Jen says, appearing suddenly from the end of the hall. "What the hell is going on in here?"

I turn to her with my jaw set in stone and my eyes blazing. I'm so angry I can feel my cheeks glowing red underneath the tears. "I guess Andie isn't the only one leaving."

"What?" she asks, rubbing her eyes. "Jack?" She turns to him for clarification.

"That would be great," he says, standing up to match my rage. "Run away. God forbid anyone besides Pacey exists in your periphery. I'm really fucking sorry for expressing my opinion and concern for someone I care about!"

"If you really cared, you would trust me to make my own decisions because I am an adult. I'm getting really sick of explaining that to people!"

"Well, Joey, let me spell it out. If you have to explain it to people all the time, maybe there's a reason to second guess it."

"I've told you," I say warily, feeling tears escape from my eyes. "I've told you that I'm down here because I'm sick of being second guessed and I wanted to see what kind of person I am without that pressure. It really sucks that you're throwing it all back in my face. _You_ suck!"

"Is throwing yourself at someone like a wanton little whore the kind of person you really want to be?"

"Jack!" Jen says firmly, slapping her hand down on the table between us as we glare at each other. "That is enough!"

"A whore, Jack? _Really_?" I ask softly, my eyes clouded with the sting of fresh hurt. "Is that what you think of me?"

"I don't know what to think. I just know that you aren't the person I thought you were." He lowered his gaze to where he was running a hand over the top of the chair.

"How can you know who that person is? I don't even know her."

"Joey Potter," he says, shaking his head. "Joey Potter is soft and sweet. She is cautious, but smart when she allows herself to think things through. She is naïve, but it's that innocence that lies at the heart of her character. She's structured, driven, and likes to play it safe. She's going to regret a lot of things about this summer." He looks up at me with a sincere look. I'm still angry.

"How smart would it be if I didn't let this experience change me?" I question. Jen is watching quietly, knowing there is little to nothing she can do to diffuse this tension. "How smart would I be to let something like love pass me by? How am I going to regret sharing that part of myself with someone?"

His gaze changes, hardens. "Because no matter what you're going to end up alone, and I know that's one thing you don't want."

"The one thing I don't want is to live my life day to day, being completely numb. I've been going through the motions for a long time now, and it was starting to kill me."

"Losing him will kill you. There's no way you can know how it will feel until it's holding on so tight you can't escape."

"Is that what's happening to you?" I ask, shoving my hurt aside for a brief moment.

"No," he says easily, but his refusal to make eye contact speaks loud and clear. "But you're different."

"How?"

"You don't have the foresight to stop it." He looks at me solemnly. "I can't stand by and watch another person that I care about get so wrapped up in Pacey Witter that they can't survive."

"It isn't your decision," I say defensively.

"You're right," he says coldly. "If it were my decision, I would never see him again."

"I thought you were friends." I can feel my blood starting to run a little cold, the contradiction between that and the heat of my anger numbing me.

"We were, but I'm a brother first and foremost. After really spending the last few days of Andie's stay with her, I'm taking that stance once and for all."

I sigh, feeling immediately guilty. I knew she was struggling, I knew it was hurting her, but I didn't care. "So what will your taking that stance mean for me?" I ask, knowing how selfish it sounds and, again, not caring.

"It means that I don't want to hang out with Pacey anymore."

"That also means you don't want to hang out with _me_ anymore," I say quietly. Jen looks helplessly between us, like she desperately wants to stop this rift from growing any wider but doesn't know how.

"That depends on how you choose to spend your time."

"No, Jack. Don't put this on me. You're angry because of things that have happened in your own life, and you're unleashing them on me because you think you see unsettling parallels. You must deeply regret at least one thing that happened between Ben and you and now you're placing everything on me because that situation is static. You can't change it. It's fine and well to say that you're standing by your sister in familial concern, but you should've been standing by her with this all along and helping her accept the natural end to her relationship. Really, Pacey and I have done nothing wrong. It isn't like we cheated on her and then flaunted our relationship in the face of her already-broken heart. It isn't like we've done anything wrong except getting to know one another and finding that we care for each other." I look up at him quietly, acceptingly. "I'm guessing you're just a little jealous of that, too, because you thought of you and I as kindred spirits, venturing out into this together. Your relationship just ended differently, so now you're not so sure. I appreciate your caution, but I'm going to do what I want regardless of that." I look to Jen. "I'm sorry, but I can't live in a place with a person who will keep me away from someone I love. I'll be out this afternoon."

Jen nods quietly, still looking from me to Jack and back to me. "Okay."

"Jo…" Jack begins, hedging around my name as though it's going to be the word that breaks me.

"Don't, Jack. You said it all when you called me a whore."

"I didn't mean—"

I cut him off sharply and hold my hand up. "I don't want to hear it. Maybe later on, I can forgive you and you can forgive me for whatever it is that so offends you, but that isn't going to happen right now," I say softly. I turn away from the kitchen, overwhelmed by desperation and feeling abandoned in some way. I feel tears come harder, and I fight to stifle the sobs as I reach for the bags that have been packed away in the closet. I find nothing there. I turn to look at Jen questioningly, and her voice is very quiet and small.

"I moved your things into Andie's room after she left. I thought you'd rather sleep on a bed than the couch."

I let in a deep, shaky breath. "Well, thank you anyway," I say simply, going to Andie's old room to pack my things. For the first time all summer, my clothes are in drawers and on hangers. My blanket is folded on the twin bed, resting at the end. My journal is on the nightstand with my pen laid across it. In retrospect, I probably should've taken that on the trip to Key West with me. For the first time all summer, there is a place that I truly belong in this house.

Well, apparently it just wasn't meant to be.

I pull my bag out of the closet slowly, inhaling the smell. It still bears faint traces of home, buried in the small wrinkles of fabric where my clothes have hidden for the last month and a half. In a small, sentimental moment, I pull the bag close to me as though it were a stuffed animal or some other trinket.

Jen's soft knock warns me that she's at the door. For the first time, I notice that Audrey is nowhere around and her bed is neatly made. I look over at Jen.

"Hey."

"Hey," she says back, taking the common greeting as an invitation to enter the room. "How are you?"

"I've been better," I admit. "You?"

"Well, I don't want you to move out," she says, taking a seat next to me on the bed. "I think Jack just needs some time to cool off. I don't think he really wants you to move out, either."

"How can I live here if Pacey isn't welcome?"

She visibly hesitates. "It's not that he isn't welcome, exactly.'

"That's how it is for Jack, who also lives here," I say pointedly. "Maybe it would be better if I went somewhere else."

"Where are you going to go, Joey?" Jen asks pointedly. "Let's be realistic here for just a moment."

Deep down, I'm fighting the urge to be blatantly honest with anyone at this point. My nerves have had all of the disapproval and judgment they can for one day. "I could go stay with Pacey. I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem for him."

Jen sighs. "I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem for him," she begins. She looks down at her nails, and I know that I was just the beginning. "However, I think it would be a problem for you. I think you're moving too fast with him and you know it, but you think that it will all be okay because it's just a summer fling. You're going into it with eyes wide open in terms of the ending, but the ends don't always justify the means. It's possible that you will regret some of what's happened, but you will definitely regret moving in with him because it's too familiar, too fast."

"We had sex," I say quietly. "Isn't that about as familiar as it gets?"

"Not always," she adds with a shake of her head and rueful smile. "In fact, it's possible to have sex with someone but wake up next to a complete stranger."

"Will?" I ask.

"No, Charlie."

"Who's Charlie?"

"Charlie is a guy that I knew in high school, in New York before my parents made me move in with my grandmother. Charlie is a person that I thought I knew, but things moved too fast, and it turned out I didn't know the duplicitous bastard at all."

"He cheated on you," I softly surmise, looking over at her slumped posture and regretful features.

"In a manner of speaking. I don't know if he cheated _on_ me or if he cheated _with _me because I didn't stick around long enough to find out." She looks over at me with clear eyes. "I'm not saying that's Pacey, I'm just saying that having sex doesn't mean you are familiar with someone or know them all that well. I'm giving you a friendly warning to be careful. I want you to stay here so that you can rein things with Pacey back under your control."

"I don't feel like I've lost control," I protest.

"And it's possible that you haven't," she concedes. "However, it's also possible that you could at any moment. You have changed an awful lot in six weeks, Joey. It isn't a bad thing that you've been more outgoing and surrounding yourself with more people, it's just that everything has happened so fast and it's been so total."

I look over at her with a small smile. "The queen of fast living is telling me that I'm living too fast?" I ask, with a hint of teasing to my question.

"Living a fast lifestyle is fine for some people. Some people have the emotional constitution to bury that stuff under layers of insecurity and forgetfulness. Others don't, and they have to analyze the actions they take carefully and protect themselves from risk. I see you as the latter. You aren't necessarily cut out for a fast lifestyle because it would swallow you whole eventually."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "You think I need to slow things down with Pacey." It isn't a question, but instead a statement of understanding.

"I think," she begins slowly, leaning over to press me into making eye contact, "You either need to find a way to slow things down now, or things will slow down of their own accord later."

"You think something bad is going to happen?"

"I think at the very least, you'll regret some aspect of your relationship. I think at the worst, something bad would happen."

I slump down a little and cast a look over my shoulder at the journal, sitting untouched, on the nightstand. In that simple autobiography, I've found more comfort and understanding than anywhere else in my life. This most recent upheaval will be no exception: I need some time alone. Some quality time with my most trusted confidante. "Thanks for the advice."

"So you won't move out?" She asks, standing to face me, her face registering something hopeful.

"No," I speak softly, allowing my teeth to tug on my lower lip. "At least, I won't go anywhere yet."

She nods solidly. "Okay, good. I'm glad."

I give her a false smile as she leaves the room and closes the door behind her. I immediately flop back on the bed and reach for my journal. It seems stupid to someone who doesn't understand, I'm sure, that I only use this pen to write in my journal. My mom gave it to me, along with my first journal, for my tenth birthday. She promised me that, if I kept it faithfully, it would help guide me when I needed it most. She wrote in the cover of that first brown leather bound journal that it would be a constant companion in her absence, and through it, she would watch me grow and help guide me. I've gone through ten and a half journals since then, replaced the ink in the pen more times than I can count, and given up on finding matching volumes. I sigh and leaf through the last few pages, trying to remember what's even written on them. It's only been a week since my last entry and my own words seem like strangers to me. I allow myself the time to sit and read through a few entries before I begin writing.

I write about our trip, I write about our first time together, and I write about running into my father. I hear a hesitant knock on the door as I set the journal aside to take a writing break. "Yes?"

"Bessie," Jack says simply, coming into the room without making eye contact, handing me the phone, and exiting much the same way he entered.

"Hello?" I say, biting my lower lip immediately. Writing in the journal has done nothing for me on the parental debate.

"Hi," she says anxiously.

"What's going on? I thought it was my week to call you."

"It is, but I have important news for you."

I close my eyes tightly, as if it will protect me from whatever she has to say, from whatever it is that makes her voice sound so edgy and intense.

"Dad's missing, Jo. His probation officer called me and said he didn't check in this week. He said he gave him an extra forty eight hours, just in case he'd lost track of time or something, but he can't wait any longer. They're issuing a warrant."

I frown deeply. "Dad would go back to prison?"

"Yes," she confirms. "I haven't heard from him since he left here about two weeks ago. Have you heard from him at all since then?"

My stomach drops as I hesitate. "What's going to happen?"

"They're hoping he makes contact with us."

"Are you going to tell if he does?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

She gives a heavy sigh. "I have to. We both do, otherwise we're both committing a crime."

I swallow hard. A crime? Somehow, it doesn't seem like protecting your father should be a crime. "But…he said he was going to put his life back on track."

"Just one more promise he shot to hell," Bessie says. My shock silences me; it's the first time I've heard her say something sounding so bitter.

"Bess," I say gently. I don't want to get into another long conversation about our father with her. I know his release from prison sent our world flying off-kilter, but I'm content to keep running away from the ramifications of all that just now. Especially when I have to decide whether or not to turn him in.

"Joey, I know you don't want to talk about it, but that's been your mantra for years now. This situation is coming to a head whether you'd like to admit it or not, and we need to discuss it thoroughly and deal with it once and for all."

Her guilt trip has a strange effect on me, producing near-violent tears with little warning. In other words, it works. "I think it's best if we just let him go."

The silence on the other end of the line is protracted and charged with a strange sort of internal buzz. "Let him go?" She repeats in disbelief. "If we let him go, he could ruin the business."

I rub distractedly at my eyes, wishing desperately that the tears would stop. I've cried enough for my father, for Bessie, and for myself. I don't want to do it anymore. It would be kind of nice to pretend the whole nasty situation didn't exist for a little while. "His name isn't on the business, Bessie. If push comes to shove, all we need to do is be honest about our background and why we started the B&B. I have to believe there's enough good in the world that our honesty would keep the business going, no matter what Dad says or does."

"I was really hoping you'd heard from him. That would solve the problem," she says in a weak voice. "As horrible as it sounds, we don't have to worry about him while he's in prison. Running amuck in the world makes him much more of a threat."

My throat closes tightly on itself, forcing my words out with a strangled sound. "I haven't heard from him. I'm sorry," I say, adding the apology more for lying than for running into him and running away again. "But if I have my way, I'll never see him again."

"Just promise me you'll call immediately if you do," she pleads gently. "Other than that, how are you?"

"Good," I add simply, unsure of my own voice. "Things are really busy here, but it's still relaxing."

"Busy at a different pace."

"Exactly," I confirm. "Speaking of busy, I'd better go. I was in the middle of something when you called. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Okay," she agrees reluctantly.

"Okay, I'll do that. Give everyone hugs and kisses for me."

"I will. Don't give _anyone _hugs and kisses for me."

I break into a genuine, although fleeting, smile. "I'm not making any promises."

"Joey!"

"Bye."

"Bye."

I press the button to hang up before I drop my head in my hands. Why would I lie to my sister? Taking it one step further, why would I lie to my sister to protect my father? I love my sister; I do not love my father. Love has a carefully defined place in my life now. When I first got here, it was scary and fast and unchecked. Now, it's taking root and I'm learning how it feels to experience things, letting everything go below the surface to a place so buried I thought I would never find it again. But what place do all of these different kinds of love fall into for me? Which ones can I trust to keep close to me, and which ones have to be let go?

Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm calling Pacey. We agreed that we would spend today apart, just taking solo time to relax after our trip. We've been spending so much time together that it feels like we're one person instead of two individuals. He swore on penalty of death that he was more than just okay with me running by myself: he welcomed the idea of some alone time. Unaware of my own actions, I intrude on his solitude. Just the sound of his voice answering coaxes tears I didn't know were in line to be cried.

"Hello?"

"Pace?" I question, noticing that his voice doesn't sound normal. It's taken on that rich, low timbre that it does when he's awakened.

"Jo? What's going on?"

I sigh before I dive in. "A lot. Can I meet you somewhere?"

He groans, and I can picture what he's doing. He's rolling over to look at the clock. "I can be there in about fifteen minutes."

"No." I say, bowing my head in chagrin as I note how harsh my tone is. "I'm sorry, that's just one of the things I need to talk to you about."

"I-I-are-…" he stammers, fumbling on gasps of air for the right words. "What are you saying?"

"Not what you think," I say immediately. "It's just been a very long morning. Jack and I fought, and Bessie and I talked."

"Oh," he says with all intensity gone from his voice. "Meet me at the boardwalk in fifteen minutes?"

"I can do that." I say. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Potter."

"I love you," I say on a sigh. For the first time in my life, I know without a doubt that's what I feel, and I know that's how I'll feel forever. The realization both startles and terrifies me in equal measure. Is it really possible? Is it possible for someone with so little life experience to realize that's how they feel for someone, or is that how it always feels?

"I love you more." He says lightly before hanging up suddenly.

It doesn't matter that my father is a drug dealer, a liar, and a wanted felon. It doesn't matter that my sister thinks I'm building a collection of baggage so deep and terrifying she won't approach it. It doesn't matter if Jack thinks I'm wrong, or I don't know what I'm getting myself into. I can feel my tension starting to melt away because when he tells me he loves me, somehow that's the only thing in the world that really matters.

Pacey stares at me in disbelief as I toy with the straw in my iced coffee. "Jack said that? Do I need to go kick his ass?"

I sigh and take a sip of my drink. "No. I think there's something more to his impromptu breakup than he's letting on. And I think he's justifiably upset that Andie went home early."

"That still isn't a reason for him to attack you. If he had this big of a problem with it, he should've mentioned it to me."

"You're absolutely right," I say, looking over at him with a nod. "But I do think it's a good idea to steer clear of him for a while." I stretch my legs out in front of me and recline against the bench. "I don't want to see him or talk to him right now."

"You should," he counsels with a soft voice. "Your whole argument when you came down here was that you wanted to make friends and learn more about yourself. Do you want to be the kind of friend who gives up on someone after one fight?"

"I might be after a fight where he called me a whore," I argue. I make solid eye contact with him and frown. "That isn't something I should tolerate, because it's not what I am."

"No," he agrees thoughtfully. He tilts his head for a moment. "I'd be more likely to go with shameless hussy."

I smile, knowing that if my mood were a little better, it would've been a chuckle. He seems to know it too, because he looks over at me with concern.

"What else is bothering you?"

I hold his eye contact briefly before I look away uncomfortably. This isn't something I feel like I should share. It isn't something I've had the chance to analyze or the chance to figure out.

I take a deep breath and set my drink down in the sand, shaking it back and forth so it has a niche to rest in. I don't reestablish eye contact as I begin to speak. He rests his hand on my back, momentarily breaking my concentration. "Bessie called right after I went into Andie's old room to say that my dad didn't report to his probation officer. She asked me if I'd heard from him."

I finally look over at him, wanting to keep myself from saying the words if I can communicate with him silently. His eyes narrow, although not in reproof. "What did you say?"

My heart is knocking frantically in my chest and all I can hear is blood rushing through my ears. I rub my fist uncomfortably over my chest. "I said no."

"Did she tell you that it could be against the law not to tell?"

I nod slowly and look away from him. He takes my hand away from my chest and wraps it in both of his. "So why did you say no?"

Tears fill my eyes and I look at him in frustration. I hoped he would understand. I hoped he wouldn't judge or question me. "Because it's what came out of my mouth! Do you think I feel good about lying to my sister? I barely even realized what I was saying until after we'd hung up."

His eyes slip closed and he allows himself a deep breath before he speaks. "I'm not saying what you did was wrong," he finally says so softly I barely hear him.

"You don't think it was?" I ask, finding myself immediately in need of his validation.

"I don't know if it was. I'm not the person that can tell you anyway. You have to decide that for yourself. I can see both arguments, though. It would be tough for me to choose between protecting and revealing my father in that situation." He opens his eyes to look directly at me, and I know he's being completely honest. "I hate that you had to make that decision."

I nod slowly. "You and me both, but I think I knew this was coming since we ran into him. I mean, obviously it would only be a matter of time until his absence was noticed."

Pacey sighs. "So, rough day, huh?" He cracks a small sympathetic smile my direction.

"You could say that," I offer, swiping a hand at my damp cheek. "Rough enough to cover all the good ones lately."

"I guess we'll just have to find a way to restore the balance." He says in a light tone.

"And what would you suggest?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, knowing him well enough to know that it's going to be some elaborate scheme, most likely with lots of adjectives.

"Well, getting completely, land-on-your-ass-if-you're-lucky drunk never hurt anyone for starters. And then you happen to have a very handsome, sexy, and virile young man who would be willing to…" he taps his chin mockingly. "What's the word…?"

"Fuck all my troubles away?" I say, and his jaw drops a little.

"Wow. That's one way to put it. You really shouldn't waste a mouth like that on a great literary education."

"Okay, I'll drop out of school and become a porn star, then. Daddy and Bessie would be so proud."

He moves closer to me and drops a kiss on my shoulder. "No, I'm not sure I'd want to share you with the world in quite that manner."

"No?" I ask, leaning back into his comforting embrace so I can barely see the look on his face out of my periphery.

"No." He confirms softly. "In that regard, I want to keep you all to myself."

"I'm all yours," I whisper as he kisses the side of my mouth.

"That's good news," he says softly. "See, you've got _some_ good news today."

I sigh. "Yeah, but good news seems to come in disguise. I thought Andie moving out would be a good thing, and look at the mess."

His grip on me tightens. "Well, if that's how she really feels, it probably is a good thing that she moved out. I'm done explaining myself and catering to her because we've ended up in this same circle of friends. There is a certain point after a break up like that where you have to totally move on. I guess I don't feel particularly sorry for her because she's the one that started the end of our relationship, you know? I'm not saying I didn't play any role, but it's basically her fault."

I nod. "I know. I mean, I know as much as I can since I wasn't there."

"I'm glad you weren't." He says firmly. "It was an ugly time and I was a mess."

"You don't think I could've worked you out of your depression through being a good, honest friend no matter how many times you showed up drunk and devastated?"

He chuckles. "You have enough to deal with. You don't need to deal with me at my finest like that."

"Maybe I want to." I say quietly. I only speak again after a long pause. "Maybe the fact that this will all end in August is just starting to get to me, you know?"

"Well, I could be speaking prematurely, but who says it has to? We can try the long-distance relationship thing if you want."

I sigh. "I don't think today is the best day to start making decisions." I look at him with a smile. "But what would you want?"

"I would just want this summer to last forever. That way, we wouldn't have to deal with it."

"You just don't like dealing with ugly things."

He tilts his head to look down at me in his arms. "Now why would you say that? I've dealt with my father _and_ my gay older brother. I wouldn't exactly call either of them cute."

"None of us has truly finished dealing with our family." I say, in spite of the laugh bubbling up in my chest. "And I wouldn't say they're ugly if I were you. You _do_ realize that you came from the same gene pool, don't you?"

"Yeah, but all the good stuff sank to the bottom of the family chain and I ended up with it. I'm thinking these good looks were the result of a long filtering and fermenting process."

"That would explain the smell."

He begins a long assault on my sides, tickling mercilessly. "Are you sure that's the comment you want to go with?"

"I stand behind my work one hundred percent," I manage through giggles. I wiggle a little more in an effort to stop him. It's an effort that is continued all the way back to his boat.

"Okay, seriously Pacey. What are we going to do today? Because I can go back to the beach house if you're sick of me."

"I wouldn't say I'm sick of you, exactly." He says, wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me in closer to him. "I'm just sick of you being so overdressed."

I look down at the spaghetti-strap tank top, too-short shorts, and flip flops. "Overdressed?"

"Overdressed is an overstatement," he says simply, reaching down to pull the bottom of my tank-top up over my head.

I sneak in the next morning, turning around to watch and ensure soft guidance of the door to its latch. I needn't have bothered because Jack is sitting at the table already. It looks suspiciously like he was waiting for me.

"What would you say if I told you there was coffee over there for you and I think we should talk?" He asks without meeting my eyes.

"I would say that I'm going to bed and you can talk to yourself," I say, not recognizing my own voice because it's so cold.

He nods and plays with the rim of his coffee cup. "That would be fair. But would you at least give me the opportunity to apologize?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What would you like to apologize for?"

"Most of the things I said to you yesterday." He doesn't raise his gaze to meet mine, but he keeps talking softly. "I may have meant the subtext, and a few of them, but overall I said some things I regret."

I pull a chair out, the noise of the wooden legs against tile scraping through the quiet early morning. I wince slightly at the noise and take a seat. "Keep talking."

"I was merely trying to express some friendly concern over your relationship with Pacey. After talking to Andie and letting our conversation build up in my mind for almost the whole time you two were gone, I let my brotherly defenses get the best of me."

"You aren't my brother, Jack."

"No, that's true. But as Andie's brother, I've seen the emotional destruction Pacey Witter leaves behind."

"And you don't think Andie plays any role in that?"

He considers my words momentarily, but his voice is deadly calm. "I'm afraid I don't because I can't see the situation objectively. Jen has already pointed out several points to me that I'm sure you would argue for, but the bottom line is that Andie is my sister, and when my sister hurts, I want the source of it to pay dearly."

"Your sister has a rather unhealthy attachment to an ex-boyfriend."

"There are a lot of things about Andie that you don't understand, and I'm not going to get into them because they aren't mine to share, but the bottom line is that Pacey knew what he was getting into. And he knew what he was leaving behind when he broke up with Andie. Pacey put pressure on her in a lot of ways, and she couldn't handle it. She made a very Andie-like error in judgment as the result of that pressure."

"It's like your sister to sleep around?"

I see him bristle, but I don't bother to apologize.

"No, but she tends to act out. She does things she wouldn't normally do when she's subject to an extreme amount of emotional pressure, and Pacey pushed a lot of buttons anyway." Jack takes a drink of his coffee and continues. "Pacey pressures women into having sex with him, Joey. I'm not saying he forces himself on them at all, I'm just saying that he applies steady pressure until people consent that normally wouldn't." He finally looks at me for the first time during the entire conversation.

"You think he pressured _me_ into having sex?"

"It isn't a stretch, Jo. You've only known him for a matter of weeks."

"He didn't pressure me into anything."

"I'll ask you again in six months and see what you say then."

I roll my eyes. "Well, according to the Constitution, the driver's license division, the IRS, and my family, I'm an adult. I can choose government leaders. I think I can choose who to have sex with and when I want to."

He sighs. "Fair enough. But I do live in the same house with you, and as a roommate, I'm asking you to respect the fact that I don't want to see Pacey. I can't say he isn't welcome here, so I'm not _telling_ you that. I'm just saying I would be more comfortable when he isn't around."

"Fine," I say, tight-lipped and unyielding. "But as a roommate, I'm asking you to respect the fact that I'm dating someone, and he's an important part of my life, so when I don't talk to you, it's merely to keep you from experiencing discomfort at his mention."

"Joey…" He protests as I get up from the table.

"I'm done with this conversation." I walk quietly down the hall and step into my room. Jen is still in bed, so I can't very well go take a bath just yet. I can at least change into clean pajamas and climb into bed.

Jack knocks and enters awkwardly, stretching the phone out to me. "Phone."

I take it without looking at him, sitting up in bed as the spaghetti strap of my tank top slides off my shoulder. I pull it back up, feeling the look on his face without seeing it. "Hello?"

"Hey," Pacey says warmly.

"Hey. Did you like_ just_ get back from the morning run?"

"Pretty much," he agrees. "I just wanted to ask you a question."

"You have one," I say with a smile. I look up at Jack. "Do you mind closing the door behind you?" I ask.

My request seems to snap him into action as he mutters something unintelligible and leaves the room.

"Jack?"

"I hope that wasn't your question."

"No, just an educated guess from your tone of voice," he ventures. "Because I know Jen would kill you if you said something like that to her, Audrey probably isn't home, and it's the least Jack deserves."

"He tried a half-assed apology when I got home. I don't remember actually hearing the words 'I'm sorry', though. Just a lot more words on the same topics we covered yesterday, only without the yelling."

"Well, _I'm _sorry you have to deal with that. There isn't a single reason for him to treat you that way."

"I know. I don't want to talk about him, though. I want to hear your question."

"Okay. Here goes. Will you go on a date with me tonight?"

"A date?" I ask. "I thought the living together on your boat for a while kind of excluded that."

"Romance is never dead and you're never done going on dates with someone."

"I hope that isn't what you tell _all _the girls."

"Well, I have to pick my moments. For example, I haven't asked Jen out on a date since high school. I prefer to focus on just one at a time."

"That's a good thing," I say lightly. "I mean, with as much sex as we've been having, you'd get tired otherwise."

"I don't get tired of that."

I laugh. "I could tell after we finished our eighth rendezvous in one day yesterday."

He laughed. "Hey now, I'm also all about pushing you to achieve your personal best. And I happen to know that round eight became a personal goal for you sometime after round seven."

"Okay, so back to our date," I say obviously. "What, where, and when?"

"Well, no French food on a boat." He says simply. "I was thinking a little more along the lines of you, me, and some solid ground."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I guess you'll just have to see now, won't you? Can you sneak out around six?"

I play with the fraying edge of blanket on my bed. "I suppose I can do that."

"Well, then I suppose I can kill the truck before I hit the driveway and be there to meet you."

I smile. "Well, that would make for a successful beginning of a date."

"Yeah, showing up _is_ a plus." He comments wryly. "I will see you at six o'clock. Casual attire would be fine for our evening plans. In fact, it's required."

"Well, I suppose I can manage it, then." A yawn sneaks out.

"And on that note, I'm going to let you get some well-deserved rest. I need to head to work anyway."

"Have a good day at work," I say softly, barely recognizing the feminine lilt to my voice.

"Have a good day off," he counters. "I'll see you at six."

"Okay," I say and smile to myself. "Bye."

"Bye." He says. I hear his phone disconnect and I hang up the phone in my hand. I sink back into the covers with a smile.

So, you know what really sucks? Having roommates' night when you're fighting with your roommate. The fight Jack and I had is not going to be easily resolved, given his less-than-stellar efforts to do so. I know he's upset because his sister left. And I understand the feeling of wanting to punch someone in the face for hurting your sibling. I guess the biggest difference is that it was my dad who best hurt my sibling, and punching him in the face wasn't really an option. However, Jack might as well have punched me for something I have no control over. Plus, what he said is worse than punching.

I put the worn copy of Shakespeare's Hamlet down on my bed. Ironic that someone as self-resolved as I am would constantly read and re-read a story about revenge eating a strong character alive, right? Right.

I pull my legs up against me and lean my head on my knees to look through the sheer white curtains out the window.

In Hamlet, it isn't the father who caused problems, but instead the father figure. I could only be so lucky. I haven't really been able to stop thinking about my dad since we ran into him, and I wish the onslaught would stop. I know I never really dealt with all these issues. I don't particularly want to deal with them _now_, either. This summer was supposed to be about me, about finding myself. I don't want to tangle that up with my daddy issues. I have a feeling that's just asking for trouble.

I blow a deep breath out of my mouth as Audrey comes bounding in. "What's the matter with you?" She asks suspiciously.

I turn to face her and smile blandly. "Nothing. I really just need to get out of here. I think too much when I'm alone in the room, you know?"

"So why don't you come out and join the rest of us?" She asks, but I see her eyebrows go up in realization and she nods. "Jack."

"Exactly."

"Well, you've made a right mess of things." She puts her hands on her hips. "Well, I know Will and his roomies are hosting the party of the night tonight, but Jen doesn't want to go for obvious reasons. We could do that. It's a safe bet Jack won't be there if Jen's not."

"Do you know what Jack and Jen are up to?"

"Yeah. They're drinking and bitter and both already well on their way to totally fucked up," she says, motioning over her shoulder to the open door and the hallway and house beyond.

I raise my eyebrows appreciatively and nod. "So they won't notice if we bail on roommates' night and go out, huh?"

"Not so much. I can be ready in five. You?"

I look down at myself. I haven't even showered since my run this morning. I slunk back to bed, and have been alternating between sleeping and reading ever since. It looks suspiciously like a weekend day during the school year. I'm still in my running shorts and tank top. "I might need a shower first. Give me fifteen?"

"Yeah, can do. If I'm out there with the sob-sy twins, I might need you to carry me down to Will's."

I chuckle. "Okay, Aud. Sounds good."

I shower quickly, pull my hair back into a messy, wet knot, and put on the first pair of denim shorts and first tank top I can find. I slide my feet into flip flops and we're out the door before I look down and realize the tank top I'm wearing is lime green with a rather aggressive blue print.

"Is this yours?" I ask her as I look at the shirt.

She looks over at me. "I think it might be." She shrugs. "Looks good on you. Plus, I'll be able to find you in the crowd all night."

I laugh and shake my head. I've never really known anyone like her. And it's safe to say this is the first time I've ever borrowed someone else's clothes in such a casual arrangement. "So Will is having a party?"

"I think technically his roommate, Kate, is throwing the party. It's at Will's place."

I nod. This is usually the night Will and Pacey hang out together, with Pacey coming over here almost straight after he finishes at work. So odds are good that he'll be here. Odds are equally as good that he won't. He hasn't shared much with me about what they do, and I haven't really asked.

We walk in a companionable silence for a little while. I look around the palm tree-lined street carefully. I admit I'm not extremely familiar with the route to Will's house, only having been here a couple of times. I get the impression that Audrey has been here more often, but she flits in and out of the house at such odd intervals that we don't actually discuss how she's busying herself.

"So what have you been up to?" I ask her boldly.

She laughs. "Well, I met this guy who is a lifeguard at the beach. So mostly I've been hanging out down there." She leans toward me with a conspirator's voice. "Not quite as lurid as you'd been lead to believe, huh?"

"Well…" I stammer a little, not necessarily wanting to pry. "I guess."

"I just haven't been around much because the tension in that house is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Andie wants Pacey, Pacey wants you, Jack wants you to stop seeing Pacey, you want Jack to stop yelling, Jen doesn't know what she wants, and Will is making overtures." She sighs. "So much for a drama free summer."

I nod. "Tell me about it."

"I thought you wanted a little drama in your life."

I give a short, wry chuckle. "I never said that. I said I wanted to come into my own a little."

"Well, it seems like you've come into your own _a lot_." She comments. "I don't mean that in a bad way. I think it seems like something you've needed to do for a long time."

I nod. "Exactly," I agree before I lapse into a very characteristic silence. I'm not sure I've ever been through the actual front door of Will's house. It seems almost like entering a whole new world. Or maybe entering the same old world through new eyes. Wow, talk about metaphorical.

I look over at Audrey uncertainly. She is not uncomfortable here. I don't think she's uncomfortable anywhere. I wish I could borrow some of that confidence. Almost immediately, she procures two blue plastic cups and passes one to me.

"What's this?" I ask, leaning into her a little so she can hear me over the loud music.

"Not sure. I thought I heard something about Jungle Juice."

"Which is…?" I yell in confusion, swiping the cup under my nose. Geez.

"You take what everyone brings and mix it together. Sometimes they add Kool-Aid or something."

I take a deep breath and a large sip. Saying it burns is an understatement, but I smile as I cough. Eight weeks ago that likely would've made me puke my guts out, even just the first sip. I almost feel like a real college student.

"Oh, hey. There's Matt, let's go say hello!" She says, thrusting her hand into mine and pulling as she begins to walk through the crowd.

"Who's Matt?" I ask, but my question is lost in the sounds all around us. The house is totally packed. Summer must be in full swing now, at the end of June. It seems the regular crowd is all here and accounted for, including the high school kids that were graduating later than the colleges let out.

I look around hopelessly, hoping for just a glimpse of Pacey anywhere. It's like I can feel that he's somewhere here, but the radar ends there.

Audrey leads me over to a very muscled, seemingly tan guy who is not wearing a shirt. Judging by the flirtatious smile, this is the lifeguard. The blue-toned lights make his tan look weird and his smile, which must be ultra-white in the sun, is almost creepy looking. He looks over at me, and I think I make out the words "Hey, how are ya?" but I can hear none of the volume so I can't be sure. I nod blandly and wave. I set my drink down on the kitchen counter and point toward the dance floor as Audrey looks over at me, hoping to communicate that I'm going to try finding Pacey. I'm not sure if that's what the gesture actually says, but whatever. I know my way home if I need it.

I finally spot Pacey, dancing to the loud rock song, and rather closely with some girl. I squint in the blue light and try to place her face, knowing it's familiar, but still unable to place it.

_Say the first thing that comes into your head as you see me…._

I look toward the ceiling. What would be the first thing that comes into my head as I see him? Probably not something I should admit out loud. Being with Pacey this summer has been a tutorial in understanding lots of different feelings – but jealousy has been no stranger. Girls dance with him, girls look at him, girls smile coyly, and more than once a waitress' phone number has been left on his credit card receipt when we go out to eat.

What does it say about me if jealousy doesn't really bother me anymore? I can discard it for what it is almost as soon as it flares. I smile slightly to myself, realizing that it's all about trust. I trust _him_ so they don't matter.

I cut through the dancers, reaching my hand out as I get close to him. My hand rests on his shoulder as I get to him and he turns, seemingly startled by the contact.

As he turns, I note the bright smile spread instantly across his face as he stops dancing.

But none of that matters, because I caught the smell of something as he turned. I'm guessing it was the perfume of his dance partner, who I now realize is Kate, one of the roommates in the house and the party-thrower of the evening. It doesn't matter.

The smell takes me back.

I'm twelve years old, the day after my birthday. I'm on the couch at home and my dad is walking by. My eyes fall to my feet. They say that the olfactory senses are one of the most powerful senses of recall we have as a species. I would believe it's true from the overwhelming wave of nausea and grief that hits me, just from that one whiff of perfume. I was twelve – I was baby, a child. In the moment after that, I don't know how to explain it, but I was painfully ripped from the safety of childhood and thrust unwillingly into the real, harsh world.

I drag my face from my feet to Pacey's face, my eyes filling with tears against everything I'm fighting them with. His smile slips and I see his mouth moved over a more concerned expression. "Jo?"

I hold my hands up, taking them off him, and start to back away. I have walls for a reason. I keep people out for a reason. I can't deal with this in public. He can't follow me. He's covered in her smell and it will just make this worse.

I shake my head and turn, pushing my way against the crowd like a fish swimming upstream.

By the time I finally reach the front door, the humid air clinging to me like a blanket immediately as I step outside. I gasp for air, the sound coming out as a sob. I do the only thing I know how to do: I run.

I make it to the house just barely, knowing I'm red in the face and choking on air. I'm not aware of the look Jack and Jen exchange from where they are watching a movie on the couch. I haul ass into my bedroom and shut the door behind me, sprawling on my bed and pressing my face desperately in the pillow as I begin to sob.

That's the trouble with walls. Eventually they fall, and what you've hidden behind them is not pretty. And eventually, you can't stop the flood.

At some point, Jack comes in and wraps his arms around me, pulling my head into his chest.

"I'm sorry about everything," he murmurs, his hands smoothing over my hair. "I'm so sorry. Please let me help."

I want to tell him that he can't help, because the damage was done a long time ago. I can't get the words out. I just sink into him more.

My mom was sick. She was so sick. Bessie was away at school in Providence, having only gone because my mother packed her up and pushed her out the door promising it would be an easy fight with the cancer. My dad was away, selfishly away, turning to every illegal coping mechanism possible.

It was just me. I was just a child. I didn't understand. I still don't understand.

I held her hair back while she threw up for days after the chemo treatments. I combed her hair as it fell out in clumps and she cried. I rode my bike down to the pharmacy to refill the pain medication that barely relieved her symptoms from the harsh radiation treatment. I coaxed crackers into her mouth and promised her strength. I cleaned up her, and her clothes, when she lost control of her bodily functions. I counted raspy breaths over a minute, like the doctor had said, and made the phone call that put her under hospice care when there were too few of them. I watched her turn into a skeleton. I turned into one myself because I stayed by her bedside the whole time, even when the hospice nurses were taking their lunch breaks.

I was all alone. My dad left me all alone. That was the legacy he left me. While she was busy dying, I could barely cry. That's all I have left now. The tears are the only thing I've managed to hold on to.

I don't know how long I cling to Jack desperately. I know at some point, I can hear my sobs echoing off his chest and they are the most empty, the saddest thing I think I've ever heard. That's objectively; never mind the experience of actually crying them.

I push Jack away just briefly and his face starts to fall. "What—what—"

"I'm going to be sick," I admit, scrambling to climb over him. I can barely grab the garbage can in time to retch into it. The sobbing starts again somewhere in the middle of the dry heaves. While I'm sitting in the middle of the floor, garbage can in my lap, Jack reaching over the edge of the bed to stroke my head gently, Pacey walks in.

He sits down next to me and I smell a faint whiff of the perfume, which is just enough to start me up again. I can't even stop crying long enough to explain the problem to him.

"My God, what's the matter?" He asks, his voice small, as he tries to pull me into him. I push back.

"You…you… you…" I try to start and just shake my head. I take a deep breath and try again, but the anger and the hurt are like wildfire. That little bit of oxygen is exactly what it needs to ignite again in my chest and deep in the pit of my stomach.

So that's how we sit for what feels like hours, me leaning against the bed with the garbage can in my lap, Pacey by my side but not daring or trying to touch me after he was violently pushed away, and Jack with his hand dangling over the side of the bed, alternating between the crown of my head and my shoulder.

Finally, at some point long after it turns light outside again, they think I've fallen asleep. The inside of my eyelids feel like sandpaper and there's no way I could sleep, but I feel Pacey lift me gently into my bed. I don't bother opening my eyes, somewhere in the netherworld between sleep and crying because I can't cry anymore, but I can vaguely tell what's happening around me. Jack moves to get up, but I feel Pacey's hand stop him. When Pacey speaks, his voice is rough and broken.

"No. Stay. She obviously wants _you_ here. I'll go." There is no mistaking the dejection in his tone.

"I don't think it's that," Jack says, his voice a low rumble.

"She sure as hell doesn't want me. She made it clear," Pacey responds. "Please just stay with her. Make sure she's okay. I don't know what else to do."

Jack folds his arms around me carefully. "Okay, I'll take care of her. I'll have her call you when she wakes up."

Only the soft click of the door signals his departure. I must fall asleep for at least a few minutes because I wake up, and sit up, totally confused by the daylight flooding the room as much as it hurts my dry eyes. "Jack?" I ask. He looks asleep but I can't be sure.

"Yeah?" He says finally, sitting up next to me and looking me over. "Are you okay?"

I sigh. "I don't suppose there's any point in saying yes."

"No. Not really," he admits. "What the hell happened?"

I drop my head into my hands. "My dad happened. And he just keeps popping into my psyche to fuck with me."

"What?"

I sigh and look away from him. "This would be easier if you were Pacey," I say with a smirk. "He just already knows it. With you I have to start from the beginning."

Jack smirks back. "Well, I've been sitting here for right around 10 hours now. I think it's safe to say I have time."

I give a short chuckle. "You know my mom died and my dad wasn't around, so I was raised by my sister."

"Yes," he confirms.

"Well, my mom died when I was twelve. She had cancer."

"God, Joey. I'm sorry," he says sincerely, reaching out to take my hand. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I feel a quieter set of tears starting. They weave through my voice and make it waver as I begin again.

"Yeah, well…" I press my lips together and reach up to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "Not too long before she died, I got up one night for some water. I was having a hard time sleeping anyway. My dad stumbled in. It was three in the morning, and he was just disheveled and drunk and…" I shrug emptily. "But mixed in with the smell of the cigarettes and alcohol was another smell. It was perfume. Perfume I knew for sure my mother didn't wear.

"Even at the age of 12, I knew I couldn't confront him then. He saw me. He knew I saw him. But he didn't say a word and went into their bathroom and took a shower before he went to bed."

"Jo…"

I inhale a shaky breath. "I confronted him the next morning and he told me I didn't understand a damn thing about losing someone you loved, and he explained all the ways he'd been finding comfort. He had been using a variety of drugs, drinking like a fish, and screwing anything that moved for months."

"Oh my God," Jack says, sitting back a little, still holding my hand. He reaches up with his free hand to wipe my cheek.

"Yeah. Well, he continued on that way. I didn't have the heart to tell anyone else. My sister was away at college, I had watched my mom push her out the door, and there was just no one else besides me and my mom there to tell. So I took care of her while he took care of himself." I close my eyes and squeeze out more tears. I sniffle pathetically.

"My mom died that spring, just a few weeks after that night. Bessie had finished her freshman year of college, and come home just in time for mom's funeral. She stayed home, and it was a couple of years until she found out about any of it. But once I let it slip… Let's say she has always been a little more, um, persistent than I have." My mouth curves into a half smile. "She's a lot more outspoken."

"I've gotten that impression."

I nod. "So she confronted him. And we had a huge fight, the three of us. She tried to choke him and I had to pull her off. He was just going to let her, the fucking coward." I give something between a chuckle and a sob. "Shortly after mom died, my dad had tried to institute these family dinners. He was the proprietor of a restaurant, that's how he supported our family; we would meet there every Tuesday night after the restaurant closed for our family time. It was practically the only time we saw him and they were always really intense and ridiculous. Well, she confronted him on a Tuesday. By then, there were the four of us because Bessie had gotten pregnant and had Alex. I don't know where they went. I sat out on the end of a dock and cried. It doesn't matter where we were that night, except to say that we weren't at the restaurant as scheduled.

"That night, there was a fire. A big fire that burned the restaurant down to the ground. It was quickly and easily determined to be arson, and it revealed Dad's secret to us all: he'd not only been doing drugs, he'd started dealing them. He had managed to piss off the wrong people and they were starting to move against us. My whole family was in danger."

"This sounds like a bad movie plot."

"Tell me about it." I admit. "Well, the Sheriff talked me into wearing a wire. Any evidence they'd had against my dad had been lost in the fire, and he explained the danger to me, Bessie, and Alexander in very clear terms. Bessie and my dad weren't talking, and Dad had a history of being inappropriately honest with me, so I wore the wire. I testified against him. I put him in jail."

"Oh, _Joey_…"

I break my hand free of his to wipe both my cheeks again, and to wipe under my eyes. I close my eyes tightly and it only squeezes out more tears. "Pacey and I ran into my dad when we were in Key West. He's out on parole. He already broke it. If anyone ever finds out I saw him and I didn't tell I could face criminal charges." I add quietly. "Both of us could."

Jack closes his eyes. "So what happened last night?"

"Pacey was dancing with Kate. Kate wears the same perfume I smelled on my dad that night, or at least something very similar. He turned just right and once the smell hit me, it was like a ton of bricks."

He just nods and pulls me into him. "You need to tell Pacey. I think he thinks it's _him_."

"Yeah. But when he came and he still smelled like the party, I couldn't…"

Jack kisses my forehead. "I'm glad he didn't do anything."

"Are you? I have kind of gotten the idea you'd be okay with it if we broke up."

He inhales a sharp breath. "Well… you and I have this special sort of thing. If you're happy in a relationship with him, then I really should keep my mouth shut. He and Andie had their own issues, and whatever is there or not now is really none of my business. I just get a little crazy about my sister." He rubs at his forehead in distress. "I think about some of the things I said and I wonder who the person talking was. I'm sorry I talked to you that way. I'm glad you let me hold you while you cried."

"About the stuff you said, it's okay. Just - never again."

"Deal," he agrees immediately. "So what are you going to do about your dad?"

I shake my head, feeling the start of fresh tears. "I don't know. I get the feeling this is the beginning of a long sorting out process for me. I've never dealt with it."

He snorts sarcastically. "Clearly."

I look over at him and give him an eye roll. "Thanks."

His hand is on my shoulder and he gives me a firm squeeze. "Why don't you go take a hot shower and I'll give Pacey a call. I'm sure he'll be here waiting for you when you're done."

I nod my agreement. "Yeah, okay." I lean over and kiss his forehead, an echo of the gesture he made for me a few minutes earlier. "Thank you."

"Welcome," he agrees. I get up and get myself into the shower. I can't deny the magical, healing powers of hot water and soap. Still, I scrub until my skin is raw and red from the heat, as if I could wash the feeling off me.

I pad barefoot out to the kitchen in a t-shirt that is almost too small and a short pair of shorts, my hair tied up in another messy knot. Pacey is sitting at the kitchen table over a cup of coffee. Jack and Jen are sitting at the same table and all three are silent. Pacey looks up at me, and saying he looks like hell is generous. I close my eyes and desperately try to maintain my composure. There is something about his warm, steady presence that makes me want to drop that guard and cry again until there are no tears left. I think, however, that is my current status quo so it doesn't take me long to get it together.

"Hey." I say simply.

"Hey," he says in a gravel-rough voice, his eyes hooded.

I nod my head toward the back door and start walking that way, knowing he will follow me for the buffer of privacy a walk along the beach would offer.

"What the hell happened last night, Joey?" He asks, his voice steely.

"First and foremost, you need to know that you didn't do anything wrong." I say simply. "For you, it was kind of a case of wrong place at the wrong time."

"Okay," he says and sounds confused. But he's not really giving me an inch as I explain.

"When you turned, you had been dancing closely enough to Kate that I caught a trace of her perfume and I snapped."

"Why?"

"I've only smelled it twice before. Once was a teacher I had. The first time was on my father the night he came home right before my mom died."

I look over at him and see his eyes widen. "Something that simple made you snap that way? There's – that's…" He looks up to the sky and tucks his hands in his pockets. "That's a problem."

"I know."

"What are you going to do about it?"

I sigh. "Nothing immediately. That was the first time I've seriously cried about any of it. I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again soon."

He just nods. "Why did you push me away? I have two good arms, right here; two sturdy shoulders."

"Two sturdy shoulders that still smelled like perfume," I amend. I sigh and my shoulders slump. "I'm sorry about that, Pacey. I wish you hadn't seen me like that. I wish no one did."

"But you plainly needed to get it out."

"It was coming whether I let it or not," I agree. I sigh and slip my hand into the crook of his arm. "Still love me?"

He leans his head down on mine. "God help me, I do."

We walk down the beach together wordlessly, our arms tangled together, his head resting on mine. It doesn't matter that it's raining and the sand beneath our bare feet is a clumpy mess. It's the first silence that we've had that was weighty, complicated, and lonely. But at least we're alone together.

_Take a walk with me love,_

_You say you can't get enough_

_Well, you won't 'til you open your door_

_And you give some more to me._

_And the silence in your steps,_

_As you tiptoe around the rest_

_Makes me want to pull you in_

_And kiss you my friend,_

_And your silly games._

_And I'm not tired I could chase you_

_Around and debate you_

_Here again and again._

_So tell me lies if you want to_

_I can take it, I won't be afraid._

'_Cause I am the rain._

_The rain is gentle some days_

_It can clean up the mess that winter made_

_The rain can wash all the years_

_Of doubt and the tears that were shed_

_So just look up, please_

_Shine a little bit of hope to me_

_Well you know, there's a season for all_

_And a season to call you my love_

_And throw me off with your pride_

_It's okay, I won't hide_

_Here again and again_

_I'll tell you there's no mistaking_

_The reason that I'm not afraid_

'_Cause I am the rain_

_The rain will wash us clean and I know_

_The rain will wash us clean and when it does_

_I will be right beside you, holding on_

_The rain will wash us clean and I know_

_The rain will wash us clean and when it does_

_I will be right beside you, holding on_

_(I Am the Rain – Vedera)_


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:**__ Two songs in this one – __**Breathe **__by __**Ryan Star**__ and __**Stay With You **__by __**The Goo Goo Dolls. **__ One more part of this story to go. Thanks for reading!_

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* * *

_

I awaken and frown to find the bed beside me empty. Pacey and I walked a good distance in our silence before we returned and wordlessly dropped into my bed to share a nap. Saying it had been a long night would be an understatement.

But the trouble was—where had he gone now?

I sigh and turn to set my feet on the ground. A week ago, I would've said that he wouldn't be comfortable leaving my room in the house with Jack out there. I'm not sure they have actually exchanged words during any of this but the words Jack had exchanged with me were enough to make Pacey bristle at the mention of Jack's name.

Last night changed the rules, though. I forgave Jack for what he said, although truth be told, in the light of day I'm thinking at least more conversation might be required. Ass kicking is still an option I reserve as well. I'm not sure what will be necessary to repair friendship there. I think, in some way, the damage done to Jack and Pacey's friendship might be worse.

I run a hand over my hair, and fix the messy knot. I stretch as I stand and pad in bare feet down the hallway toward the kitchen, where I can hear snippets of their conversation that stop me before I come into view.

"…_no, I think she's dealing as best she can." _

"_You don't think this, like in Andie's case, might be too much for you to handle?" _Jack's voice is skeptical. "It's an awfully heavy load to bear, man."

"It's not the same as Andie," Pacey says quietly. "Joey just plays things a lot closer to the vest. She's never actually dealt with any of this." He sighs. "She doesn't really need anyone's help to deal with it, either. That girl is strong enough to survive anything at this point, she just doesn't realize it."

"You have your own baggage, Pacey. Don't try telling me this isn't stirring that shit up for you, too."

There is a long lapse of silence, during which I can only guess at what Pacey's face might be saying for him. "I've been thinking about trying to get back in touch with my family lately anyway. When Joey saw her dad, I just… I don't know. That isn't how I want to be. I don't want to unexpectedly run into a family member and fall apart because I haven't dealt with the shitty hand they gave me. I want to be free from it. The only way I can be free from it is to go back and to tell them how badly I hate the way I was treated growing up. Once they know how I feel about it… you know, fuck them. I'm done."

I hear Jack's sharp intake of breath. "So if you leave here, go back there, then what?"

"I don't know, man."

"Are you… would you be coming back?"

"I said I don't know," Pacey says in a low voice. "It all depends on someone else in a way."

Jack's voice is soft. "You would do that for her?"

I can sense Pacey's discomfort in hearing his clothing rustle as he moves. I curiously can't move myself, waiting to hear his answer. I sigh, realizing it doesn't matter. I'm not going to _let_ him do that for me.

I take the remaining three steps to put me in their sight before he can answer, with Jack sitting up a little more straight in his chair to indicate my presence and then Pacey looking over his shoulder and seeing me.

"Hey," he says simply, still hunched over the coffee in front of him.

"Hey," I agree. I sink into the chair opposite both of them. "Sorry I slept so long."

Pacey just shrugs while Jack looks over at me with a quiet "That's all right."

It seems the elephant has just entered the room. The silence is long and drawn out. I turn to Jack.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your shoulder last night," I begin, hoping to stir some sort of conversation. I'm sure whatever they've resolved is in a surface way, much like what Jack and I did. I'm sure they aren't ready for much more than that, either.

"Um, yeah. You're welcome," he says. "Joey, I know you don't want to hear this from anyone, especially me. But maybe you should go talk to someone about all this stuff."

I sigh and reach over to grab Pacey's coffee mug so I will have something to fidget with.

"I did, Jack. I talked to _you_."

"I'm not equipped to help you really handle all that," Jack says. He takes a drink of his coffee and looks over at me seriously. "There are a lot of things to deal with when such an emotional issue is at stake. And the fact that it all happened while you were so young just means there might be more damage."

"Oh, so now I'm _damaged_?" I say. "Nice."

"No, Joey." Jack rubs at his temples in frustration. "That's not what I'm trying to say. Again."

I sit back in my chair. "So I misunderstood when you called me a whore?"

His face falls, immediately understanding the leap I made because it's the same one he just made. I slide my gaze over to Pacey and his eyes have widened. He's looking at the table, his mouth clamped firmly shut and his jaw clenched.

"Yes." Jack says finally.

"Explain," I respond tightly. I slide Pacey's coffee mug back in front of him before I fold my arms, not needing any nervous gestures as my indignation and a hundred other emotions flare up. He looks almost grateful for the place to divert his eyes, his discomfort radiating off him in waves.

"Andie leaving really rattled me," Jack begins. "She had left just that morning before you two came back and it was still fresh in my mind. One of the wonderful things about Andie is, I suppose you could call it loyalty-"

Pacey snorts and we both look over at him.

"Sorry, continue." He says in that same low voice he's been using.

"No, I'd like to hear a little more about that," Jack says, his voice edgy and slightly caustic.

Pacey sighs, dragging his eyes up to meet Jack's face. "How in the hell do you get off calling someone who cheated _loyal_? Loyalty does not involve fucking another guy when your relationship is clearly defined."

And we're back to infidelity. My stomach sinks. I refuse to run away from this desperately necessary conversation though; not now, when I feel strong enough to have it out with Jack and defend myself.

I can see retreat all over Jack's face. "All I meant was that, once Andie decides to hold on, she doesn't let go easily."

"See, I would probably call that _clingy_ instead of loyal." Pacey says.

"I'm not here to criticize my sister. Her mistakes, at this point, are in the past," he says, his sharp tone brokering no response.

"Forgive me if I'm not over being cheated on," Pacey mumbles and casts his eyes down.

"_What?_" I ask in near disbelief. I raise my eyebrows and my hands. "If you're not over that, what are we doing here?"

"Jo…" Pacey says on a tired sigh.

I can feel tears starting in my eyes. I'm still learning here; although my first instinct is to immaturely stomp away from him and refuse to talk this out, I'm not going to do it. I'm going to wait and listen to what he has to say.

I realize, quietly and only in my head, how much I've already changed this summer. I've learned a lot about myself – which was the goal. Now I just have to learn to be okay with, and even proud of, the new person I've gotten to know.

I sit back in my chair again and wait as he looks over at me.

"You're waiting for me to explain?" He asks, looking genuinely puzzled.

"Yes," I say, trying to keep my voice gentle while simultaneously indicating that explanation is required.

He gives me a small smile. While I've been busy learning about myself this summer, someone else has been busy learning me, too. I imagine it must be nice for him not to have to sit and wait while I work something out that he already knows for once and I smile back.

"All right then," he says, still smiling. The smile fades a little. "I just meant I'm not over the experience of being cheated on. It changed me forever, and I won't sit still in a relationship if I think the other person is going to bail out at some point in quite that way." He clears his throat. "As for being over Andie, yeah. That's not really even a question. I am."

He reaches his hand across the table toward me and waits expectantly while I unclench my posture to mirror his gesture. "I didn't realize you could ever sit still," I comment, unable to resist. He smirks at me.

Together, we look to Jack.

Jack seems to realize the spotlight is back on him and squirms in his chair. "Basically I was all keyed up because Andie was so upset when she left. I have watched this girl I know, this bright and beautiful girl, be so wrapped up in him that she can't be bothered to think of anyone or anything else. So I was a little hesitant to walk down that same road again."

"If you think I'm so fantastic, why use the hurtful words you used?" I ask in brow-furrowed doubt.

Jack sighs again, his eyes trained on his coffee mug. "I don't know. I really don't know why those words came out of my mouth. I only know that I'm sorry for them and I didn't mean them. I was just surprised to watch how fast your relationship has gone, I guess."

"But Jack, don't you understand? Our relationship is none of your business. It's none of anyone else's business because it's between Pacey and me," I finish quietly. "Being a real friend, well… all that's required of you is a shoulder and a listening ear from time-to-time." I clear my throat. "The whole purpose in this experience for me is to get to know myself. I can't do that if you're busy yelling."

I drop my voice and wait until Jack and I share eye contact. "So I'm asking you to stay out of it."

He just nods. "Yeah, okay."

My shoulders drop a little. "Okay. Part of that is I realize you aren't comfortable with the dynamic or the history between Pacey and your sister. So I will, as your friend, respect those limits. I'll try not to make it any worse. Okay?"

He nods again. "Okay. Thanks."

I sigh and look him over before I turn my full attention to Pacey. "Now, didn't you say something about a pre-July 4th bonfire that was taking place tonight?"

He nods. "Yeah, but I'm not sure if everything is still too wet with the freak rainstorms blowing through. I'll have to walk down there and check with them."

I give him a little smile. "Do you want me to go with you?"

He looks over at me, dressed in a spaghetti-strap tank top and short matching shorts that are really barely even intended for bed-wear. "Are you going like that?" He asks, eyebrow raised.

I look down and decide to tease him. I mean, of course I'm not wearing this out of the house. I'm not even wearing a bra with it, and even if I were the material is thin enough that just about everything would be on display, especially in bright sunshine. "Sure. What's wrong with this?"

A slow smile spreads across his face. "Why don't I take you back to your bedroom and _show _you?"

"Pacey doesn't want you on display like that. He's afraid you might get a better offer," Jack teases, throwing a smirk in Pacey's general direction.

I watch Pacey smirk back, which is Pacey-speak for _I have no comeback_, and stand. "I'll be right back. Give me three minutes or less."

"That's not the best offer I've had today," Pacey says with a frown. He watches me start to exit the room.

"Well, when I come back I'll have a better offer for you," I say over my shoulder. He gives me a sexy grin.

Again, I grab the first two items out of the closet my hands find, and I'm pretty sure the camouflage print skirt is Audrey's because it barely hits mid-thigh on me. The black spaghetti-strap tank top covers a little more than the one I was wearing, but not by much. At least the bra is built in so I don't have to worry about that.

I slip flip-flops on my feet as I walk into the kitchen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in some ways Joey Potter is officially one of the guys. I do believe that took less than the allotted three minutes!" Jack cheers in a voice lower than his, sounding much more like a cheesy game show announcer.

I smirk at him.

"I don't know a single guy who wears a skirt that short," Pacey comments, very obviously looking me over. "Or a guy who could pull it off quite like that."

"I totally could," Jack protests. He looks me over. "Is that Audrey's?"

"I think." I say with a shrug. I look down and tug at the hem of the skirt. "And if you're drunk enough at the bonfire, I might offer to switch you just to test the veracity of your claim."

"And there she goes with the big words again," Jack says, looking over at Pacey. "It really is amazing, isn't it? I have no idea what the hell she just said."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Pacey says, his eyes lost somewhere just beneath the neckline of my tank top.

"Did you know she said anything?"

"What?" Pacey asks, looking over at Jack again. His eyes flit back to me. "Sorry," he ducks his head on a sheepish grin.

I smirk and hold a hand out to offer him help up from the table. He keeps his grip in mine and we head out the door and up the beach, away from the direction we normally go that would take us to his boat.

"Do you think Jack is right?" I ask, plagued by the thought even though I wasn't technically part of the conversation.

"About…."

"Well, I heard you guys talking before I came into the kitchen. And then he said something directly to me about my needing counseling. Do you think he's right?"

Pacey takes two measured breaths, keeping his gaze down at his feet before he speaks. "If you heard our conversation, then why ask? I told him what I thought."

"If you think I need to, I'll go."

He looks over at me, his glance still guarded. "You're really the only one who can decide. But I don't think you need it. I think you'll be fine. And if you aren't – well, then cross that bridge when you get to it."

"Are you sure that bridge isn't washed out?" I ask, my voice low.

"Yes." He says firmly. "You are strong enough to handle whatever life throws your way. You just have to _believe_ you are."

"Back at you," I agree quietly. He looks sideways at me for a moment, his expression undefined, and then tucks his arm around my shoulders tightly. We walk without a word down the beach several more houses before we see a group mingling around a large fire pit dug right into the sand on the beach.

"Hey, guys." Pacey says easily. They look up and start mumbling various hellos. He tosses off quick introductions – Josh, Juli, Jeff, Anne, Bryce, Carolee, Dan, and Jodi – and I tuck right back into the quiet shell of that girl who first came down here. I stand in awe of him, really. He can make friends with anyone because there is always a well-placed joke or a charming smile at his disposal.

Is that proof that he's okay with such a lonely, heartbreaking childhood? He and I have talked growing up enough that I know the quick wit and charming smile usually come to him as a response to mask insecurity and doubt brought on by a father who taught him that he could only reach the lowest expectations of himself.

What would prove that I'm okay with my childhood? I can't come up with anything. I look over at Pacey. I suppose opening myself up to him, and continuing to open myself up to him will have to do.

_She's fine, most of the time_

_She takes her days with a smile_

_Moves like a dancer in lights_

_Spinning around to the sounds_

_But sometimes, she falls down_

_Breathe, just breathe_

_Take the world off your shoulders_

_And put it on me_

_Breathe, just breathe_

_Let the life that you live be all that you need_

_She likes New York at night_

_She dreams of running away_

_Shine on, bright like the sun_

_But even the sky turns gray_

_I need you to hear me say_

_I need you to hear me say_

_Breathe, just breathe_

_Take the world off your shoulders_

_And put it on me_

_Breathe, just breathe_

_Let the life that you live be all that you need_

_Let go of the fear_

_Let go of the doubt_

_Let go of the ones who try to put you down_

_You're gonna be fine_

_Don't hold it inside_

_If you hurt right now, then let it all come out_

_Breathe, just breathe_

_Take the world off your shoulders_

_And put it on me_

_Breathe, just breathe_

_Let the life that you live be all that you need_

_Breathe, just breathe_

_Take the world off your shoulders_

_And put it on me_

_Breathe, just breathe_

_Let the life that you live be all that you need_

_(Breathe- Ryan Star)_

He's been very careful with me. He's been treading rather lightly since the party last week, and I can't really blame him. It shifted something about our relationship.

He sets the mug of tea in front of me, where I'm sitting at the small table in his galley, reading Hamlet yet again. He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. "Someday I'll make you explain the appeal of that book to me."

I look over at him with a smirk. "Someday, maybe you'll be able to understand the appeal without an explanation."

"The language is archaic and difficult to understand," he argues back.

"The language is precise and controlled and sometimes beautiful, even in its anger." I flip to a well-known passage, which also happens to be my favorite.

"You like it because it's like you then," he says simply. He sits beside me on the tiny bench.

I look up from the book, surprised by the compliment. "What do you mean?"

"It's okay to come undone, you know," he says simply. "I don't think you really know that."

I frown. "It's not that I don't know it intellectually. It's just that I've been burying all this stuff for so long that I don't know how to undo it. It just happens sometimes, in little bits and pieces." I point down to the words on the page. "To be or not to be, that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arm against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them." I look up at him, aware of my slumping posture as he frowns while I read the words.

"So is it easier to live in opposition to those things that would threaten you, or to quietly endure?" I ask. "What do you think?"

"I think it depends on the opposition," he says frankly. "I mean, if this outrageous fortune is a bad choice someone else makes, they are the ones with that choice, not you. You just have to keep living. Let them deal with the consequences of their choices."

I sigh. "It's not that simple. In real life, there is a bleed over effect. I'm directly affected by my father's poor choices. I have been directly affected, time and time again. I've tried just living in spite of it, just quietly going on. I can't do that anymore. I have to stand up and oppose it."

"So you're going to tell Bessie?"

My shoulders slump further into the seat. "I don't know. Even if I told now, it could mean consequences for both of us."

"What if I told? What if I said that I'd run into him and you weren't there?"

I shake my head. "There is no way you would recognize my father on the street if you were there alone. You barely know him at all."

"I know you."

"And I am nothing like him," I say quietly. "Grieving for losing a father isn't the same thing as accepting responsibility for his faults. I can barely accept my own faults. I'm not going to take the burden of his on myself."

He gives a small smile. "Should I be concerned that your favorite part of a dark and twisted play is the main character's debate on whether he should kill himself or not?"

I smile and bow my head. "I'm not contemplating suicide, if that's what you're asking." I look up at him. "In fact, I'm not sure Hamlet is here. At least not until he starts talking about a dagger. I think he's asking if it's better to deal with things, to confront them, or to just live in ignorance." I raise an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

He ponders this for a minute. "I'm more of the 'eat, drink, and be merry' philosophy. I'm okay living the unexamined life."

"Are you?" I ask seriously. "Or do you just do what I do—you examine it when you're alone?"

He sighs and levels a heavy glance at me. "I don't want to talk about this now."

I nod. "Okay." I close the book and look at him, turning in the small space so I can face him head on. "What should we talk about?"

"Maybe not so much talk," he says in a low voice, leaning forward. I smile as we kiss; it's been kind of a long week with the tiptoeing and emotional issues forefront. We haven't done as much of this as I would've liked.

I lean up on my knees to get closer to him and he pulls me into his lap. I slide my feet down on either side of him, the intimate contact already almost enough to make me explode.

Apparently, I really enjoy sex. Especially sex with him.

He quickly divests me of the shirt and bra I was wearing and starts in with open mouthed kissed along my neck and down my chest.

It's amazing how quickly we've become comfortable like this with each other. I know just what he's going to do. He knows the anticipation is driving me slowly mad.

He finally moves backwards, taking us both off the bench. Not wanting to break the building intensity, I wrap my legs around his waist as he stumbles backward toward the bed, landing with me pressed on top of him. He guides his hand over my breast, rubbing a flat palm over my tight nipple and I rub against him hard. "Pacey…"

He moves his hand from my chest to the waistband of my shorts, stolen from him, to remove them. I lift up enough to allow this and then reach down to the waistband of his shorts.

I kiss my way back up from his legs, giving extra attention to his thighs with my tongue. He isn't willing to wait for that, though, and pulls me back up to where I'm straddling him. He hands me a condom and watches carefully as I sheath him with it. I move my knees forward to allow him entrance, and he takes the invitation. He puts his hands on my hips to lightly guide my movements as he grinds against me.

It's less than moments, maybe seconds, before the world explodes and all I feel, all I see, is him. It's total sensory overload, being with him like this. In these moments, he consumes my whole world.

He rolls us to the side, so we're tucked tightly against the paneling that makes the wall around the bed. He gently hooks my left leg over his hip, never ceasing in that relentless motion between us, the give and take where we meet each other in the middle. He slows the rhythm and looks at my face, a breath away from him. He brings his hand up to my face and places it to my cheek as he leans in to kiss me gently.

For as wonderful as the fast-paced and hard sex is, it has nothing on this. The tender stuff, the moments right before he gives himself over to me completely where he whispers my name and his love as we both lose control of time and place again.

After a moment to regain his composure, he sighs and drops his mouth to my neck. "Maybe we should go find some lunch. Have your roommates mentioned missing you?"

I turn my head over this. I haven't seen much of any of them since my breakdown. Jack stopped by Pacey's boat yesterday to make sure I was okay, while Pacey was at work and I was here alone. "No."

He nods. "Well, I'm sure they do. Maybe we should plan something for tonight." He gently pushes himself away from me and heads for the bathroom.

"Yeah, maybe." I agree, sitting up and looking around the small cabin to determine exactly where my clothes have gone.

"Um, Jo?" He says, something in his voice that is completely new to me. It sounds a little bit like panic, though.

"Yeah?" I ask nervously, pushing myself to the edge of the bed.

"I think we have a problem." He emerges from the head, already totally pale.

"What's that?" I prompt, pushing myself to stand.

"The condom broke."

We stare at each other for a long time after the words are out of his mouth. I'm not sure if we're both that surprised or if neither of us wants to be the first to react negatively.

"Wh-how does that happen?" I ask, sitting back down.

He shrugs. "I don't know, exactly."

"How do you know it happened?"

"How specific do you want me to be?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

I sigh and drop my head into my hands. I can't help it. As unfamiliar as I am with how the whole cycle works, I find myself counting anyway. "What's today?"

"Thursday." He says simply. "The twentieth."

Two weeks. It's been two weeks since my last period started. What does that mean? Well, quite frankly I have no idea.

He frowns as he watches me. "Period math?"

I feel the blush creep up into my cheeks as I try to remember exactly how all this works. Yes, I paid attention to the process in school. It's just that the exact math of it has never been relevant to me. "Pacey…"

"I have three sisters and lived through lots of discussion on the topic. I'm sorry; I'm not particularly shy about it."

I roll my eyes and look at him. "You might be in a better position than me to do this math."

"Oh, I don't think so." He says. "While I witnessed various home remedies and much bitching, I am not all that certain on the process itself. Shouldn't you be more aware of how that works?"

"Probably," I agree on a sigh. "Is there a library close?"

He thinks for a minute. "It's not all that close, but maybe like a half hour away." He grins in amusement. "Why am I not surprised that, in the event of emergency, your first thought is to find a library?"

"Where else would you recommend I go?"

"We." He corrects gently. "We could probably go talk to your roommates. Knowing those two lovely ladies as I do, I'm sure they would have the answers you seek."

I close my eyes. "What if we have a problem?"

He sits next to me on the bed. "Well, then, I guess we'll just have to figure this out as we go, won't we?"

"Yeah," I agree emptily.

We make our way, post-run, into the beach house through the back door. Our run was silent, tense; not normal at all.

Jen is sitting at the kitchen table with a sandwich and a book. It looks like a cheap, paperback romance novel that was left here at least a decade ago. "Hey….. What's your name again?" She teases as she puts a potato chip into her mouth.

I smirk. "Very funny." I open the fridge to get a bottle of water and look over my shoulder at Pacey. "You want?"

"Sure, thanks," he says. It's the first time I've heard him speak since at least a mile back.

I toss the bottle to him and turn to pull a chair out from the kitchen table. "So, Jen. I have an awkward question to ask you. There's really no way to beat around it, so I'm just going to spit it out." I say, settling into the chair across from her. She puts her book down on the table, and unfolds her legs so her feet are flat on the ground.

"Okay, shoot."

I feel a blush creeping up over my face, the heat of embarrassment intense and immediate.

My face is red from running, because especially in the early afternoon it's starting to get hot outside, but he can tell. Pacey can always tell I'm struggling.

"Well, the condom broke," he says simply, dropping into the chair next to me. "We figured you might be able to tell us how worried we should be."

Jen nods. "Oh." She stays silent for a minute, thinking. "Well, how long has it been since your last...?"

"Two weeks," I say, looking down at the wood grain of the table and tracing my fingernail along one particularly deep groove.

"_Oh_." She says, worry more emphatic now. She blows her bangs out of her face. "Did it break before…after…?"

"During, at some point," is all Pacey offers.

"Too bad that Plan B thing is still in trial," she says simply. My eyes widen.

"We need to be that worried?"

"Joey, I would've thought you of all people would know more about this subject."

I shake my head. "I know the basics, but the timing has never really been relevant to me in this way before."

She nods. "Well, Will and I had one break last month so I looked into all this."

"_What?_" Pacey says, his voice kicking up a notch. "And no one said anything?"

"It ended up not being a big deal," she says simply. She looks over at him. "You're telling me it's never happened to you?" She raises an eyebrow in doubt. He just shakes his head. "Okay, well a girl is most likely to get pregnant right in the middle of her cycle; that's figured from the beginning of one period to the beginning of another. And since it's been two weeks since your last period, I'm guessing it's about two weeks until your next period, which would put you…"

"… Right in the middle." Pacey says, his eyes closing on the frightening words.

"So what do I do?" I ask, my voice sounding very small and foreign to myself.

"We," Pacey corrects again. "What do we do?"

I look over at him, immediately contrite for the slip—_again_—that implies he's leaving me hanging here. I put my hand over his on the table top and, so fast I barely notice the move, he flips his hand over and laces his fingers between mine.

"Well, you can go to Planned Parenthood, but there isn't much you can do until you know if she's pregnant or not," Jen says, looking between us. "You're going to have to wait and see if she misses a period."

"_Two weeks_?" I scoff. "You're telling me we have to wait for _two weeks_?"

She nods. "Sucks. But that doesn't make it any less true."

Pacey blows out a deep breath. "Okay." He looks over at me. "Sounds like we have some stuff to talk about, then."

My eyes meet his. I don't want to talk. I want to hide. "Yeah," I agree emptily. I stand. "Thanks, Jen."

"Welcome," she says, her eyes scrunching a little in concern. "Wish I had better news for you."

I roll my eyes. "Story of my life at this point." I turn to Pacey. "Ready to go?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay here a bit?" He's surveying me closely. I know the reality of the situation: he knows me well enough to know that I need time alone to go to pieces before I can deal with this on any sort of a partnered level.

I wish I could be the person who talks it all through with him calmly; the person who addresses his fears and my own, which are likely all the same. I wish I could be more like him.

Why can't I? Why can't I learn to do that? What's stopping me?

I give him a slow smile. "Let's go."

"Really?" He asks solemnly as he stands.

"Really," I confirm. My heart is pounding in my chest as his expression lifts into a hopeful smile. If I had to guess, I would imagine I feel an anxiety attack building. How do I fight these feelings, how do I turn this part of myself on its ear to include him the way he deserves to be included? How do I become part of an "us" instead of a singular entity? I'm not that good at relying on other people. How do I become good at it? Is that a skill you can practice?

He takes my hand quickly and we go out the back door, the same way we entered. As soon as we're out on the beach, headed back toward his boat, he stops and turns to pull me in for a kiss. If only I could define everything in that kiss. There's so much there to choose from.

I close my eyes and lean into him.

He presses his arms around me. "Your heart is pounding." He says in a soft voice.

"I know," I say, my eyes still closed. "I'm so scared, Pacey."

"I know you are. I am, too."

I nod. "I'm trying to be better at this."

"At what?"

"At letting you in; being partners. I'm trying really hard not to run away."

"I'm glad," he says simply. "I'm not going to let go, you know."

"What do you mean?"

He sighs, still holding me close. "The only thing I'm afraid of here is whatever it is you're holding on to so tight that you don't want to let go of it and hold onto me instead."

I swallow, feeling tears gathering at the back of my throat. "I don't know how to explain it," I begin on a sigh. "It isn't you. It's me. I know that is what always gets said, but it's true here. You have given me no reason not to trust you, and yet here I am fighting with myself every step of the way."

"So let go. I'll catch you," he says. "I swear I will."

I look up at his face from where I'm pressed to his chest. "So what do we do here?"

I feel my grip on the reality I've always known slipping a little.

He sits down, pulling me against him and between his legs. He folds his arms around me. "I don't know what we do. What if we're…" he swallows hard. "What if we're pregnant?"

"I'm not ready for a baby," I say simply. "I'm still pretty much a baby. I'm so emotionally crippled I might as well be one."

He leans down and kisses my cheek. "So would you want to have an abortion?"

I close my eyes and lean my head back against his chest. "When Bessie found out she was pregnant with Alexander, our whole world was already literally going to hell. Although it wasn't ideal, I went to the counseling meeting with her. I was fourteen years old, sitting in an abortion clinic, and wondering what I would ever do if I were in the same situation…"I trail off and chuckle wryly. "Little did I know."

"It's not the same, though. You aren't taking your sister with you through this because you have me. I'm assuming the baby's father wasn't around?"

"Bodie? Um, no. Not then. He finished up culinary school. They had actually kind of broken up because she knew she was going to have to come home and deal with my mom and my dad and… and me. He was visiting her at home every now and then, but the visits were getting further apart." I raise my hand up to my forehead and shake my head. "Bodie didn't know she was pregnant until she decided to keep Alex."

"And what made her decide to keep him?"

I open my eyes and look out at the ocean as I lean into the warm safety he provides. "She said she wanted someone to hold on to. She said after the loss we'd suffered, it seemed selfish to give up something as simply beautiful as a life."

He's quiet for a long time, his breathing steady behind me. "And do you agree?"

"Yeah," I answer eventually. "What about you?"

"My senior year of high school, my older sister returned unexpectedly from college to 'take some time'. That's what she told everyone. My dad had emancipated me when I was sixteen and kicked me out, so I ended up living with her. She told _me_ the real reason she'd left school was that she was pregnant. I was there when she miscarried. We were still moving into the house we rented and she had a really hard time with it. It was only then that she admitted she'd wanted the baby. Not that she had gotten pregnant intentionally, not that she wanted a baby, but she wanted _that_ baby. She believes in the poetry behind unintentional consequences or something like that."

I suck in a long, deep breath. "And do you agree?"

"I think unintentional consequences carry a message. Maybe there is something in that consequence that we need."

"And what would you need out of this?"

He's silent for a moment that feels more like an eternity than a heartbeat. "To stay with you."

"We need a baby to keep us together? That doesn't sound promising."

"No, but it is something that would force us to make a move of some kind and establish some permanency. If it were as simple as just staying together, I think you and I could do it forever without all the external stuff."

I nod. "I know what you mean. I've thought about it. Just throwing everything I've worked for out the window and…."

"You can't do that. Out of the two of us, I'm the more portable candidate." He admits. "I've kind of lived my life in an unattached way until now. You, you're obligated all over the place, but the least of which is not to yourself."

"I know," I echo. "But you are working down here and you're…"

"This was never meant to be a permanent place for me. It was more of an escape than anything else," he interrupts gently. "If we're having a baby, I would be wherever you are."

Having a baby. _Having a baby_. That seems like such a foreign concept. What do I do here? What's the right answer?

"You need to go," he says softly. It's not angry; it's not anything other than speaking the truth. He's very calm about the whole thing so far, even though I can feel his heart racing as we discuss this.

"What do you mean?"

"You need to go back to the house. You need to write on this, ponder on this… do whatever you do within yourself to resolve things and then we can talk." He says simply. "You need to go."

I sigh. He really knows me better than I know myself. I can already feel myself starting to withdraw from the reality of the conversation. He's totally right. I need time to myself.

"But what about you?"

"What about me? Take the time you need. I'll still be here," he says simply. "I'm learning about you as we go, Joey Potter." He stands up and helps me stand up. He keeps a hand on my waist.

"And what is it you're learning?" I ask in a voice far shakier than I would like it, hoping the answer is _good._

"You digest things on your own. Talking through them won't help you until you digest. So you take what you need, and I'll get what I need." He leans in and gives me a soft kiss. "Just don't take too long. And come find me when you're ready to talk, okay?"

I nod. "Okay."

"I love you," he says simply.

"Back at you," I reply. I stand and watch him go up the beach toward his boat. I swallow back the wave of nausea that comes with the entire permanent decision making process and all this thinking of something other than self-preservation. Can I do this? More importantly, do I have a choice?

In the last thirty-six hours, I've done some thinking. To be precise, I've done a little showering, a little eating, very little sleeping, and a _lot_ of thinking. I've done a lifetime's worth of thinking. If we're being fair, it's three lifetimes worth of thinking: mine, his, and ours. There is definitely an "us" here now that, if my gut instinct is correct, will become a threesome in a short nine months or so.

I've done some thinking. What does all this mean? Do I have it within myself to avoid being a total coward like my own father? What if I have the breast cancer gene and I die young like my mother? Would it be fair to ask a child, maybe a young child, to deal with that? Do I have it within myself to trust, that if either of those things happen, that Pacey could be everything to a baby that my father could not be?

I've come to some important conclusions.

Firstly, I've learned from the mistakes of my father. I could never abandon or betray a family. I have a total disdain for drugs and drug culture, and I'm positive that carries over into other areas of discretion. I can say beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would never have an extra marital affair. _Never_. As eager as I was to rule everything about myself out of character before this summer, and have since found some of it to be actually true about who I am, I am dead certain this is not the case for me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't sneak around behind the back of someone that I love, no matter how rough the going got.

Do I think Pacey could do it? If we're talking available options, yes. This time with him has proven nothing but the fact that he is considered available by the female (and some male) segments of the population. If we're talking desire, I think not. Pacey was so hurt when Andie cheated on him. He knows what it's like to be on the other side of an adulterous affair, and he doesn't seem capable of exceeding the bounds of loyalty to inflict that emotional harm on another person. He seems like the guy who would stick by someone he loves through the fires of hell. Even if the fires of hell were actually her death.

Bessie and I have agreed not to have the test for the cancer gene. We swore, should either of us be diagnosed with cancer, that we would just fight and genetics be damned. We promised each other, so there is really no way I can know without breaking a very important promise, if I have a chance of getting breast cancer. I know it might seem ridiculous to be a nineteen year old who does regular breast exams, but I do them faithfully. I'll continue to do them.

In reality, it's the best chance this child has of growing up with a mother. I'm terrified to admit it, but I'm sure that's the next major role I will play in my life. I'm hoping that role will give me the freedom from other roles I'm starting to feel this summer. I'm shedding the roles as source of town gossip, daughter of a convicted felon, and daughter of a dead mother. I'm losing the identity of being poverty-stricken, painfully shy, and unknown to those around me. I'm learning how to walk the line between protecting my family and protecting myself. I'm learning to become comfortable in my own shoes, and it's going to be so important.

I have to trust myself before I can trust myself to raise someone else.

I have to trust myself in this partnership Pacey and I have built if we're going to be parents. I have to trust myself as equally as I trust him. I have to love myself and be okay with the past I've lived through if I'm ever going to love and accept him. He's very easy to accept at face value, to accept for a summer; accepting him for a lifetime, a committed lifetime no less, will take work. But do I trust that he will stay faithful to those commitments? After a lot of thought and trying to talk myself out of it, I really do. I trust him.

The bottom line here is that it's not my fault. It's not my fault that my father did really, really crappy things to me. It isn't anything other than providence that my older sister stepped up to the plate and finished raising me, giving up her own time to find herself in the process. She made that choice and she feels I'm worth it. With her belief in me, I've finally realized that I can climb mountains. I owe it to her to make this, to make my life, work. I owe it to her to live up to the obligations I'm making here, even if this isn't a path we had discussed or chosen for me. I can do any of this because Bessie has led the way and been a fabulous example of a strong female caretaker. She should be proud of me, and I think she will be, even if she initially has a negative reaction. Change is usually not easy, and this will be a big change.

My father can only hurt me if I choose to let him. I'm done letting him. I hope I've dealt with everything he's dished out, but really I can only accept victim status as long as I'm willing to take it. Even if I'm afraid, I have to fight back against that stigma. I think I'm strong enough to do that now. I think I've been strong enough, and I've been fighting it all along, but I don't think the fight will again catch up to me the way it did a week and a half ago.

Will Pacey resent me? I hope not. He's been saying all summer that we could find a way to truly be together if I would just let go of the fear. I may still feel it, sure, but I'm going to work against it and continue living anyway. In spite of the fear, being with him is so worthwhile and creates the freedom for me to explore so many parts of my hitherto unknown self. He pushes me to do it without force. It's only encouragement, and then he seems to delight when I share my discoveries with him. In that respect, he's the perfect partner for me because I have so much to discover. I've been so busy trying to shove down the negative and the hurt in my life that I've never discovered the good, lasting things about myself.

How in the world am I going to tell him all of this? It's at least thirty-six hours worth of talking. He's got to go to work. I glance over at the clock. It's 5 o'clock in the morning. His boat is docked about seven miles away. Maybe he'll meet me in the middle on the beach if I start running. We seem to have some screwball sort of detection system when each other is around. Although, if I can feel any part of him, I'm sure he's nervously waiting for me to come to him. Maybe there would be drumming fingers or tapping toes to give him away. I grab my small messenger bag, the one I use for school when I return from one or maybe two classes at a time, and put my journal in it. I've done enough soul-searching and answer-finding within its pages that now I'll exercise the ultimate trust in him – I'll let him read it.

Scratch that, he can have it.

My heart is inscribed on those pages. Every thought, errant emotion, or unchecked verbal tirade I've had this summer is in there. And it all seems to revolve somehow around him. It's like an 80-some odd page love letter. It's everything to me.

So is he.

I change into running clothes, noting the cloud covered sky outside that makes the sea look like an inky storm in the pre-dawn darkness. It's probably raining, no _misting_, as it has been for the last two days. But I don't care. It doesn't matter. I have to get to him.

I layer a long-sleeved t-shirt (I think that might be Audrey's) over my tank top and shorts, strap the messenger bag around me, and blow out a nervous breath. I can do this. I can do this one step at a time, right? There's no rule that says it has to be all at once.

I sneak out the back door, carefully making sure the door latches. The motion sensor lights trigger and momentarily blind me. I pause to let my eyes catch up. I once more survey the thick clouds over the 6-foot high vinyl fence. They're still there, all right. But I'm not instantly drenched, as seems to be the pattern with Florida rainstorms, so for now the weather is at least holding even if the temperature is almost bitterly cold. I shiver through the long-sleeved shirt and briefly consider heading back for long pants. Did I even bring any? I'm not sure.

After a few minutes of debate, the lights turn off and I head away from the house, triggering them again as I slip out the back gate.

It's been a couple days since my last run, but I don't want to get caught in a nasty storm. I drop into a brisk walk that quickly becomes a slow jog, which slowly evolves into a real run. I can't rein this in any longer.

I feel the wind pick up at some point, even feel the misting rain start, but somehow none of that matters.

It takes me a little over an hour to get there, which is actually a personal best. I'm drenched by the time I arrive, and I'm sure I'm just lovely to behold. Somehow I don't think he'll mind.

I slow down as I hit the dock, walking and hoping to even my breathing out just a little before I see him. He always leaves me a little breathless anyway, so I'm sure I won't be able to catch my breath entirely. I survey the world around me, wet and rain slicked, just as day is breaking.

He's just emerging from the bowels of the boat, dressed in that same faded high-school logo sweatshirt he always wears, and sweatpants. His hair is getting too long and is sticking up in every conceivable direction. I smile a little to myself as I see him.

"Jo—what the hell?" He asks, immediately looking concerned. "Did you _run _here? And you know it's only like six in the morning?" He reaches out a hand for me to help me up onto the boat.

I smile at him. "Hi."

He chuckles a little. "Are you insane?"

"I might be," I admit. A strong gust of sea air washes over us and I shiver involuntarily. The fact of the matter is I'm absolutely soaked at this point, and without the internal friction of running, I'm already starting to get cold.

"You're soaking wet," he says softly as he leans just past me to grab one of the well-worn beach towels he keeps above deck. He tucks it around me tightly and pulls me against him. "It's good to see you." His voice hits that low register that's just for me.

"I was hoping you'd feel that way," I admit, pressing my cool lips to his throat.

He groans and closes his eyes. "You're _freezing_," he protests. "I need you to take better care of yourself… now." I catch his meaning, the reason he hesitated. He's sure I'm pregnant, too. It's a little strange to feel content and terrified in one breath, and he manages to capture it perfectly.

I close my eyes as I lean into him, able to relax at last for the first time in two days. "Sorry," I mumble sincerely.

"Yeah, well…" he hesitates teasingly. "Let's get you below deck and find you something warm to wear." He tugs on the towel that he wrapped around me and I slip my hand out to take his as he leads me inside.

He's quick about it as he finds me a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt to put on. I ignore the random places he pulls these things from. He's tried explaining what he called his "filing system" to me, but it became abundantly clear that there was less system to it than throwing something and hoping it lands in the right spot. I'm really no longer shy around him, and barely modest, and strip down quickly only to replace my wet clothes with his dry ones.

He spreads out on his bed while I'm getting dressed. "Now why don't you come over here and let me warm you up properly?" He asks seriously.

I smile softly and reach for the messenger bag that was discarded in my haste to warm up. "First things first," I say simply as I pull out my journal.

"What's this now?" He asks as I hand him the book. He takes it and flips it over. "Why are you handing me your journal?"

I take a deep breath and, even though my feet are itching to run again, I say "I want you to read it. And have it."

He frowns. "I'm not following."

I offer a tremulous smile. "The best way for me to explain everything I've thought for the last couple of days, or really even for the whole summer, is for you to just read that."

"But it's your journal," he says simply. "I can't do that."

"I'm telling you to," I reply earnestly. I shrug and sit down next to him. He moves over on the bed so I have room to lay my legs out. He rests the journal against my thigh and looks up at me.

"You don't have to do this."

I swallow hard, looking down at him like this. Here where it's just the two of us, possibly the three of us, it's very easy to imagine this being my whole world. It's very easy to see my whole future laid out in the beautiful map of his face.

"I want to." I cock my head to the side. "Why are you arguing?"

He allows himself a deep breath. "I'm waiting for the neuroses to kick in."

I smile in allowance. "Sure. The thing is I've come to some important conclusions in the last couple days."

"What kinds of conclusions?" He asks as he drops his eyes back to the brown leather cover.

"I want to be with you, Pace. I want to figure all this out. _Together_."

"Me, too," he says simply. He gestures for his phone. "Hand me that."

I grab his cellular phone out of the small cubby next to the bed that passes for a nightstand. He flips the Motorola open and hits a few buttons. "Hey, it's Pacey." He says softly into the phone. "Is Greg there?"

I scowl a little as I recognize the office manager's name on his lips. I listen further as he leaves Greg a message saying that, unless his presence is mandatory, he has somewhere else he needs to be today. He is quick to reassure that it's of the utmost importance and he would like to speak with Greg one-on-one about it tomorrow.

"You're calling in sick?" I ask as he hands the phone back to me.

"Yes." He says. "The way I see it, I have some reading to do. That's far more important."

I lean down and kiss him on the lips, my fingers finally losing the battle to end up in his mussed hair. He slides a hand around my waist, pressing into the kiss as though his life depends on it. I slide down a little in the bed as we kiss, making the angle more accessible without really even thinking about it.

He pulls away, and then comes back for one briefer kiss before he looks at my face now on the level with his. "You look tired."

I smirk. "I haven't slept much. It's a byproduct of all the thinking."

He reaches his thumb up to run it under first one eye, then the other, where I'm sure there are dark hollows from the lack of attention to my physical health. My eyes yield and close under his soft touch. "I know how that goes."

"Yeah?" I ask, sliding down further into the bed. He moves away just enough that he can pull the covers up around his both. "What did you think about?"

"Well, mostly the stock market. You know, is it more of a bear or a bull? And really, what does that mean for my investing strategy as a whole? Should I be more interested in off-shore types of –"

"I asked," I say to cut him off. "There's really no one else to blame here."

He chuckles lightly. "Why don't you sleep a while? We can dispense with the heavy conversation after I read."

I nod, but it probably looks more like some sort of a twitch as I start to doze under his loving care.

I awaken with a yawn and a stretch and find him curled beside me, my open journal tipped awkwardly between us as he snores lightly. The afternoon sun is bright and intense coming in through the small round window and beating right onto the bed.

I manage to shrug out of the sweatshirt without waking him and then pull just the sheet over me. I'm estimating, because I'm too lazy to roll over and look at the clock, that I've been asleep for at least ten hours.

He sighs in his sleep and I look over at him. He curls toward me, his lips mumbling some incoherent words. He tucks his face in tightly, as if he's trying to escape the sun, but ends up with his nose pressed into the book and he sits up fully, smacking his head on the low rise of wood planking above the bed. He reaches a hand up to rub at the spot on his head and opens his eyes for the first time.

"How long have you been there like that?" He asks, his voice deep and roughened with sleep.

"Long enough," I say with an amused smile.

Every morning for the rest of my life – could I be this lucky? It could really be this wonderful. When plans change, it doesn't have to be disappointing and heartbreaking. It could be _this_ instead.

"So…" he says. He motions awkwardly toward the book. "You trust me. And it only took about 65 pages to realize it."

I smirk. "I'm a little slow like that."

"No," he says simply. His eyes sweep over my face and the amusement fades from his eyes. It looks a lot more like worry now. "You aren't slow. You have just had a lot to deal with. I'm afraid that we've made it worse for you."

I nod. "Yeah."

"I don't want to do that. I don't want to be the one who pressures you, or puts you into this position, Joey."

"It was both of us," I hedge.

"I still feel responsible," he admits in a low voice.

"You take on too much responsibility." I answer sharply. "I know because it's what I do. The real problem with everything – my mom getting sick and dying, my dad being a criminal – is that I take responsibility for things that aren't my fault." I blow out a breath. "I know that now. But this? This is partly my fault. Taking responsibility for it is right and okay and you need to share it with me. That's the only way this is going to work."

"You're the one with a bright and shiny future. I'm the one with the faulty condom."

I roll my eyes. "Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? Or do I have to spell it out?"

He looks out the small window to his left and then lets his eyes come back to me. "You said you would want to keep a baby," he says. I'm not sure, from the way he says it, whether it's a question or a statement.

I nod. "Yeah."

"What if, in ten years, you have a 5th grader and something has gone south with us because you resent that you didn't get the bright and shiny future you had all laid out for you?"

"I can't promise that wouldn't happen," I say as a beginning. "But if that's the case, I'll have to adjust my thinking. I'll have to find a way to change whatever it is that makes me so unhappy at that point. Besides, it's a lot easier to go back to school or whatever when you have a ten year old as opposed to a newborn."

"So you would drop out of school now, is that it? I don't want that!"

I feel heat rising in my cheeks. "Would I really have a choice?"

"You have all the choices here, Jo."

"That is not fair!" I squeak out, moving off the bed so I can stand up. "You can't put all this on me!" My voice is rising. This isn't what I want. I don't want to fight.

"No, that's not what I'm saying!" He protests, scooting off the bed. I step back so he can stand. "It's not going to change anything for me because it's not like I have _plans_. I'm just going with the flow here. You're the one with plans, with decisions to make."

I shake my head. "Okay, then take this information: I'm having this baby. I'm not sure yet how that's going to fit in with school or anything else. I don't think it's going to. I think I'll have to put school on hold for a bit and go home. I have a support system at home that can help me."

He lets out a deep breath. "Do you want to quit school?"

"No. But I'm not going to be able to work, take care of a baby, and go to school. I especially won't be able to afford it in New York. If I stay in Capeside, I can work with Bessie. There's a community college there I could go to. I could take one or two classes at a time, at night or whatever fits into a schedule. It's a lot more affordable. With an income from the B&B and maybe another part time job, I could at least afford a small apartment and cover the basics."

"So what about me? Is there anything for me there?"

"That's up to you." I say simply. "As far as jobs go, there is all the typical stuff with the water around. It's on a harbor. So there are fishing jobs, jobs with boats…" I shrug emptily. "You could live there with me if you wanted to."

He nods. "Okay." He reaches an arm out to me. "We can live on True Love. Or, or maybe… maybe I could sell her. I'm sure we could use the money."

I sigh and shake my head. "Maybe we could live on the boat. I think docking is reasonably priced in Capeside. It isn't like the Vineyard or anything. I don't want you to sell your boat, Pace. That's asking too much."

"It's okay for you to give up school but I can't sell my boat?" He clears his throat. "If I sold the boat we might be able to afford an apartment in New York for a while. You could stay in school." He pulls me next to him. "It would be enough to at least get us started."

I let out a long sigh. "We'll see. I don't want you to have to sell your boat." I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. My voice is infinitely smaller. "I don't want you to have to give up anything. Or to feel like you have to."

He tips his head as he looks at me speculatively. "Is that why you've been fighting me this whole time on trying to stay together after the summer?"

I can't make eye contact with him. I can't say anything.

"Joey, what keeps me with you – baby or no baby – is not a sense of obligation. Please don't think that. It's as simple as knowing where I want to be and knowing who I want to be with. I know we started this as a short-term thing, but it's taken on a life of its own to me. I'm sorry if you don't feel the same way." He drops his head as if maybe it hurts a little to look at me.

"It's not that," I begin quietly. "It's that you, as you said just a little bit ago, you live your life in an unattached way. You do that on purpose," I raise my shoulders up a little and sigh. "That's how you're happy. Who am I to take away from that?"

After a long pause, his voice is quiet. "Maybe you're the only one who can take away from that."

I give him a soft kiss. "What about setting someone free if you love them?"

"You can set me free. I'll just come back."

Slowly, tentatively, warily… I give in a little bit. "Promise?"

He smiles slowly. "Yes, I promise. You're stuck with me."

I put my hand on my hip. "That sounds a little more like a threat."

"Now I suppose that would be in the eye of the beholder."

"I'll give you something to behold."

"Are you sure that isn't more threat than promise?" He asks skeptically as he walks toward the head.

"Maybe both," I admit. He slips a grin over his shoulder at me as he goes into the small room and closes the door.

_These streets__  
__Turn me inside out__  
__Everything shines__  
__But leaves me empty still__  
__And I'll burn this lonely house down__  
__If you run with me__  
__If you run with me_

_I'll stay with you__  
__The walls will fall before we do__  
__Take my hand now__  
__We'll run forever__  
__I can feel the storm inside you__  
__I'll stay with you_

_Fooled by my own desires__  
__I twist my fate__  
__Just to feel you__  
__But you, turn me toward the light__  
__And you're one with me__  
__Will you run with me?_

_I'll stay with you__  
__The walls will fall before we do__  
__Take my hand now__  
__We'll run forever__  
__I can feel the storm inside you__  
__I'll stay with you_

_Now come in from this storm__  
__and I taste you sweet and warm__  
__Take what you need__  
__Take what you need__  
__From me_

_Wake up this world__  
__Wake up tonight__  
__And run to me__  
__Run to me now_

_I'll stay with you__  
__The walls will fall before we do__  
__Take my hand now__  
__We'll run forever__  
__I can feel the storm inside you__  
__I'll stay with you_

_(Stay With You – Goo Goo Dolls)_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: **__This is the last part of In White Houses. I don't usually begin the post with a song, but this particular one is the exception. I listened to the song on an almost endless loop while I finished this story up, so I totally recommend finding it on YouTube. If you've been reading here or you're re-reading, thank you for sticking with it. Replies are always excellent and appreciated, but just reading it is really enough for me and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it. __**THANK YOU**__._

_Also, look for the continuation – __**Let Love In.**_

_**

* * *

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_I'm trying not to lose my head_

_But I've never been this scared before_

_Tell you what I'll do instead,_

_Lay my body down on the floor_

_To forget what I've done,_

_Silhouette 'til the good Lord comes_

_All we know is distance,_

_We're close and then we run_

_Kiss away the difference,_

_I know you hate this one._

_You're trying not to lose your own,_

_Boxing up everything you've got_

_All you ever knew of home,_

_Scared, scared to see_

_Your mother there in the door_

_You wonder where did the years go_

_All we know is distance,_

_We're close and then we run_

_Kiss away the difference,_

_I know you hate this one_

_But this is how the story ends_

_Or have we just begun_

_To kiss away the difference,_

_I know you hate this one_

_Violins make sound_

_And I begin to feel the ground_

_All we know is distance,_

_We're close and then we run_

_Kiss away the difference,_

_I know you hate this one_

_But this is how the story ends_

_Or have we just begun_

_To kiss away the difference,_

_I know you hate this one_

_(Where the Story Ends – The Fray)_

After almost two weeks of waiting, I thought I was ready. I thought I could handle it until Pacey got here. I was prepared, calm, cool, and collected. It was the last puzzle piece falling into place. Of course we would have to change things and plan and grow up. I'm really okay with that thought, or at least I thought I was. There must've been some mistake.

I sigh and wipe my hands over my tear-stained face for what feels like the hundredth time in a minute. For hours now, I've been counting. I've been counting all the moments since we met each other, going back over this whole summer in my mind. As I was living it, I thought it was wonderful. This was a way for me to dip my toes in the wide ocean of adulthood without jumping in and getting totally soaked. _If only._ Reality is never all that far away, and I should've known that whether it was through reading and inferring or whether it was through my own experiences. I've never been good at ignoring reality or living in a fantasy world. I should have known that this summer would be no different.

There's a knock at the bathroom door, and I'm not surprised. Living in this house that is like a communal dorm room, there is never an entire hour where someone doesn't need to use the bathroom.

"Hold on," I call out. I look down at the mess of packaging spread out all over the sink. I sigh and start trying to scoop it up, wondering where in the hell I'm going to put it all.

"Joey?" Jack's voice comes through the door. "I'm sorry, but…"

"But you need the bathroom—got it!" I call, trying to keep my voice steady. The effort is completely wasted, though. The more deep breaths I try to take, the more I realize all that I'm holding in my hand. My eyes slip closed. What in the world am I going to do with this? I need time to think.

I sigh and finally fold the box down so it's flat and tuck it into the waistband of my running shorts. I tuck the packaging next to it, and shove the pregnancy test in my pocket, hoping Jack won't somehow touch me and get suspicious. I hope the tank top I'm wearing is thick enough to hide everything I've just tucked into the waistband on my pants.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

His face fades from amused into concerned. "Are you okay?"

I'm fighting to keep every breath regular and I can't speak. Not if I'm going to hold on to the thin thread of composure I'm holding on to. I bow my head, never answering him, and slip into my bedroom. I close the door tightly and turn to lean against it, closing my eyes and letting out the sob that's been building when I was unable to respond. I clamp my hand down tightly on my mouth and just pray there's a phone in here so I can call Bessie. I don't know what else to do.

The phone rests on the nightstand, from when I spoke with her yesterday. I turn the lock on the bedroom door and stride the three steps to the nightstand, feeling the packaging I stowed away slipping. I take it from my waistband and put it under the bed, for now hidden away under the edge of the comforter that brushes the plush carpeting.

I pick up the phone and dial our familiar phone number, the same one that we've had since I was a child and learned my phone number on safety day at school. If only safety as a concept was all encompassing. I've never felt so confused, so lost or rattled or _unsafe_ as I do right at this moment. For a girl like me that's saying a lot. For a girl like me, there is no telling what damage a loss of control along this magnitude could do.

"The number you've dialed is no longer in service. Please recheck the number…"

I hang up and take a deep breath. My hands are shaking terribly as I hear a knock on my bedroom door.

"Joey?" Jack says softly from the other side.

"I'm on the phone," I respond, my voice hoarse. He tries to turn the doorknob, but the door is locked and all that happens is it thuds.

"Jo?"

"I'm on the phone," I repeat. My voice can't get any louder. I know he can hear everything I'm feeling laid bare in it, but there is nothing I can do about that. I close my eyes, allow myself one deep breath, and dial again.

I had forgotten the area code. I'm so used to being that close to home.

"Potter Bed and Breakfast," Bessie answered brusquely, sounding interrupted.

Her voice, one of the most steady and familiar things in my world, is enough to bring me to my knees. I sob immediately, the bottom of the phone in the way too much for me to press my fist back in between my teeth.

"Bess?"

"Oh my God, Joey? What's going on? What's wrong?"

"I'm coming home," I say simply. "I'm coming home. I need to – can you get me a flight home?"

"But-what? Why?"

"I-I'll tell you when I get there. It's a long story. I just need to come home." I say, my voice sinking into a desperate whine as I turn my head toward the comforter draped over the side of the bed I've been sleeping in. "Will you do that for me, please?"

Bessie swallows. She and I have always been the kind of sisters who help each other through something and then ask questions – a lot of them- later. "Yes. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll call back, okay? Whatever it is… whatever it is, I'll fix it for you, okay?"

"Okay," I sniffle pathetically. "Bye."

"Bye, sis." Bessie echoes, traces of concern everywhere in her familiar voice.

The phone falls to the floor and I allow myself one deep, stuttering, steadying breath. It does wonders for my ability to pull my eyes open. I sigh and look around the room. I study the pattern on the comforter. I've never really looked at it before, although I've been sleeping under it for weeks. It's as unfamiliar to me as this place, and as the person this place has crafted within me.

I swallow hard, trying to choke back anymore tears. I pull the pregnancy test out of my pocket. I'm not the kind of girl who takes these, or who has scares like this. I think it's safe to say this has rattled me to the core because anything seems possible just now. That isn't nearly the hopeful statement some people think it is.

The phone rings, jarring me from my thoughts. I pick it up off the floor and answer it.

"Hello?"

"Well, you aren't crying hysterically so I suppose you'll be able to get home in one piece," Bessie remarks wryly.

"I might just yet," I say softly. "What did you find out for me?"

"Well, there's a flight leaving there to get you to Boston tomorrow. Can you be there first thing in the morning?"

"Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Good because I booked it for you." Bessie says, and I can picture the smirk on her face. "We'll be at Logan to pick you up, so look for either Bodie or me." She clears her throat and drops her voice. "Whatever is going on, whatever happened to upset you, I'm just glad you called. I'm glad you're coming home."

"Well, we'll see if that's still the case when you talk to me about it," I admit on a sigh. "I-I-I just don't know what else to do. I'm hoping you can help me."

"I hope so, too." Bessie says. "Okay, I'm going to let you go so you can get ready."

"Okay. I love you, Bess."

"I love you, too." We hang up on that parting admission and I sigh.

There's another knock on the door, and I know immediately who it belongs to. When did I start being able to identify Pacey by the timbre of his knock? My stomach drops as I pocket the pregnancy test and make sure none of the packaging is sticking out from under the bed.

"Jo?" He says softly. "I-I just please… please let me in. I need to know you're okay."

The plea in his voice goes straight through me and my eyes tear up again. How am I ever going to do this? A sob fights its way free from my chest as I imagine his face when I tell him, as I try to imagine telling him goodbye. This is _so_ not the way we thought it would go down.

"Jo?" He pleads again.

I walk over to the door and reach for it in one fluid motion, knowing that if I hesitate the courage will be lost forever and I'll leave him standing in the hallway. I look at him from his toes, dragging my eyes over his body and coming to rest on his face.

His expression is tense and tender all at once as he takes in my crying face.

"Oh, wow. What's—what's going on?"

"Um, come in." I say, sweeping my eyes away from him and opening the door a little wider. Down at the end of the hallway, I can see Jack watching skeptically. I move to the closet and grab my bag out of the bottom.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

"I'm packing," I answer tersely, turning away from him. "I need to go home. I've got a flight out first thing in the morning."

"_What?_ Why?" He swallows, his voice dry but wracked with emotion. "Just—just hold on a minute here." He grabs my arm gently and stops me from pulling clothes off hangers. "Talk to me."

"I've just.. I've gotta get out of here, Pacey."

"Okay, so we'll go—"

"No. I need to go home." I can feel my composure starting to crumble. I want to lean into him. It would be that easy. It would be so easy to lean on him and tell him and let him fix it. Let him fix _me_.

"Why?"

"Because!" I yell, lashing out in my frustration. I step back from him and he lets his hand fall from my arm. "I don't even recognize myself anymore!" I swipe furiously at the tears on my cheeks.

His face falls but he doesn't drop his gaze from my eyes. "You're still the same."

"No, I'm not," I admit in a broken whisper. "I'm not."

He shakes his head, still looking confused. "I don't understand."

My mouth is dry and I'm gulping at air, trying to get a breath that will hold and will get rid of this breathless feeling. "Yeah. I…I'm kind of freaking out. I just…" I close my eyes to let my mind formulate the words. What am I saying? What am I trying to say? Focus on the words. I owe it to him to get all this out.

I pull the pregnancy test out of my pocket and hand it to him. I watch his eyes as he reaches out to accept it from me. I can see his hand shaking as it dawns on him just exactly _what_ he's accepting. "Oh my God." He looks like he might be sick. "Oh my God. I thought I was ready for this."

"But you aren't. Neither am I." I close my eyes and feel the tears squeeze out of them as my face falls. I can barely open my eyes, and all I see when I do are his fists balling at his sides, the test dropped to the ground. Somehow, I know he's fighting the urge to comfort me. He's fighting the urge to pull me close and kiss my tears away.

"So…" he finally says. I can hear the strangled, choking sound of tears in his voice. "What now?" His voice is paper thin and nothing more than a whisper now. I raise my head long enough to honestly look at him.

I've watched him all summer, so surprised at this graceful mix between boy and man that comprises him. Right now, he looks more like a lost little boy.

"Nothing. It's negative," I admit.

He looks up. "Negative? But it has-"

"How the results display depends on what kind you buy," I cut in quietly.

He lets loose sigh that sounds like a sob. "Oh. Okay."

"It's not okay," I say simply, shaking my head and putting my head in my hands. "None of this is okay."

"But if you're not… I mean… then what…" he stammers, clearly looking for guidance that I am unable to give him.

"I need to go home."

"_Why_?" He implores, now moving toward me to pull my hands from my face. "Why do you need to leave?"

"I need to leave because I can't do this anymore!" I burst out, gesturing out to the side with my hand in the air. "I can't live with this over my head, and this is always going to be a risk if I stay."

"We're careful, Jo," he says, his voice low and growling.

"I know, but the fact that this was a possibility is just far too much for me to handle. I wanted to have a little fun this summer. That was it! I wasn't after a lifelong commitment, and I certainly don't want to have a baby!"

He reaches a hand up to massage the bottom of his neck. He drops his head to the side and he closes his red-rimmed eyes. "Sometimes things just happen. They happen for a reason." His voice is still low. "We—we talked about all this."

"Things happen as a consequence to a bad decision, too. It's not all destiny and true love and…" I trail off. "We always knew what this was. We always knew how it was going to end."

He studies my face for a long time. "I don't want this to end. I especially don't want this to end _now_," he says quietly. "You know that."

"I need it to," I say. "I just can't do this. I'm not ready for any of this." My voice is so cold, so distant and exact that I don't even recognize it. My heart and everything in me is screaming the exact opposite. It's only been a few days since I committed to going through this together, but this test being negative has thrown me completely off track. I don't deal well with unexpected, I know that about myself. The desire to run is at least something I recognize and, with all the fighting and standing and staying I've been trying to do, running is really the only thing left that I have of my former self. Everything, every blade of grass on the playing field, has changed for me with him in my life. _Everything_ I thought I knew has shifted forever. He has forever changed how I see the world, for better or for worse.

His shoulders fall and he drops his eyes to the ground. "Okay, then. I guess there's nothing more to say," he says in a voice too small and broken for me to believe it's actually coming from him. "I, uh, think you have some stuff on the boat. Leave room in your bag and I'll bring it by in the morning before you leave. Can I come to the airport with you?"

Before I know what I'm doing, I nod my consent, my posture as downtrodden as his. "Yeah, okay. I'm going to see if Jen will drive me. We'll have to leave by seven."

He brings his hand up to my shoulder and gives the top of my arm a gentle squeeze, but still doesn't make any eye contact. Then in a move that belies any of the affection we've shared, he turns and leaves without offering an embrace or a kiss.

Jen looks back at us, sitting the back seat and staring out our opposite windows in silence. I think she feels guilty for everything that's happened this summer, for even letting me come down in the first place. I think so because she said as much when I asked her to drive me.

"Would you guys say something? The silence is starting to drive me crazy," she finally says, earning wary glances from both of us.

"There isn't anything to say," Pacey says finally, turning to look out his window again.

"I disagree," she says firmly. "I think you both have a hell of a lot to say to each other."

The fact is she's wrong, because it hurts too much. Two people who are individually lost cannot find something they both need together. It just doesn't work that way. Somehow, I'd always envisioned finding the one I wanted to be with forever on some crash course that would change my life. In all reality, I will go back to school next month and continue on. At least, I'll go back to school and I'll study what I've been studying and I'll hang out in my single dorm room by myself when I'm not studying, which is only when I'm sleeping or eating. And I'll go home for sporadic weekends to see my sister, and I'll move on. I know he will, too. He'll stay here and soon, we'll be nothing to each other but a memory. That's bound to be how it goes. That's how it will have to go; all the choices I've made have forced us in this direction.

But if there's nothing for either of us to say to each other, why is he here? Why didn't I question his presence until right now? Maybe it's because somehow, his being here feels right. Somehow, I draw the strength I need to make it on to that plane from his being here, right now. Somehow I draw the strength to face the future in what he's given me, and I can face what's coming even if there are pieces of me scattered everywhere between here and where I'm going.

Jen follows the signs carefully, coming to rest in the short-term airport parking. "I'm going to just stay here with the car," she says to me. We did our good-bye scene before Pacey showed up this morning. "Have a safe flight."

"Okay," I say, offering a thin smile. "Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your summer."

"Thanks," she says, offering me an equally thin smile back. Pacey doesn't say anything to either of us, but he climbs out of the car first and pulls my suitcase out of the trunk. I go and stand next to him, not sure what to do next, but somehow feeling a little better when he takes my hand as we start walking into the airport together.

His thumb rubs slowly against mine, sending shocks up my arm with every movement.

"Bessie is going to meet you in Boston, right?" He says, finally breaking the spell of silence that has been over us since we pulled away from Jen's house.

"Yes," I say. "She'll be there."

"And you're sure about this?" He says, his voice so small I barely recognize it.

I swallow hard, fighting against the impending tears as we pass the luggage checkpoint and head to the security line. He can't go with me past this point, and we both know it. He pulls me to a stop before I get into line. "I need to."

"I guess I just thought you would change your mind and decide to stay down here with me." He admits with a wry chuckle, bowing his head. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

"No." I say, resting my hands on either side of his waist. "I think somewhere inside of myself, I thought something similar. I thought you would maybe come back to New York with me."

"Instead you're leaving early." He drags his eyes up to mine, and I can tell by the bloodshot, weary glance that he's on the verge of tears. It amazes me that, after only two and a half months, I can read him that well. And that he's come to mean this much to me.

"Well, things didn't really go as planned," I say, finally allowing my tears to fall. They tangle in my eyelashes, making my eyelids seem thick and heavy. "I have to…I need some time. I need some time to understand why I've done the things I've done this summer."

"See, I thought you understood."

"I thought I did, too, but I was wrong." I say, offering him a small smile as he wipes the tears off of my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. "And now I just have no idea. I have no idea where to go or how to get there."

"I'm glad your sister is giving you somewhere to go."

"Me, too."

"You know you can always come back here. I'll have a place for you if you need it."

"I know," I say and sniffle slightly. "I appreciate that."

"Maybe for fall break?" He says hopefully. I look up at him, but my composure, at least what was left of it, completely crumbles as I break down into sobs and shake my head. There will be no coming back. I have to leave all of this, including him, behind. I have to do it for my own sanity, because all of this is not representative of who I am. Jen was right – this is not the kind of lifestyle I'm built for. I bury my face in my hands and he pulls me closer to him and lets me cry. "I know you're confused and I know you don't understand, but you're the only thing that's right for me," he says in a scratchy whisper. "I know I said I understood why you were leaving, but I don't. I'm afraid I never will."

"I can't explain it," I say, my words muffled in the warmth of him. "I don't understand it either, I only know that I need to get my bearings. I can't do that here."

"You can! I can help you."

"No you can't!" I say defiantly, pulling away from him. Fortunately, the swarm of people is moving around us swiftly enough that I don't think anyone is watching us. "You're part of the problem, Pacey. We've been through all this."

He takes my hand and pulls me back into him. "You're right." He says softly. "You're right. I'm sorry, I'm…I'm kind of freaking out here."

"Me too," I admit, wiping my eyes sullenly. "This hurts."

"It hurts a lot," he says softly, resting his lips on my cheek. I close my eyes, feeling the full warmth of his breath. I turn my head to catch his mouth with mine, and we get caught up in a kiss so warm and desperate that I feel the tears in my eyes again. He pulls away from the kiss to wrap me in a warm embrace. "I love you. I'll miss you."

"I love you, too." I say, not allowing myself to admit that I'll miss him, even though I will. Even though I know I'll feel it for a long, long time.

"I'm always only a phone call away," he says as I finally pull away. I nod.

"Me, too." I echo, even though we both know it isn't true.

"You better go. You have a plane to catch."

I nod and wipe my eyes bravely, even though I know as soon as he's gone, I'm going to cry again. He carries my suitcase for me as I find my place at the end of the security line. He kisses my cheek as he leans to set it down next to me. "Goodbye, Jo."

"Goodbye, Pace." I whisper, allowing my eyes to slip closed one last time. He rests his hand on my elbow for just a moment. He catches my eye as he begins to move away, and I swear I catch him with tears in his eyes. But he doesn't look at me again; he just walks away, down the long linoleum corridor to the exit. I watch him, as I have many times this summer. His walk doesn't seem as firm as it does when he's going about his daily routine, and for a minute I wonder if this really is affecting him as much as it's affecting me. I know it is. His begging me to stay with him, to try a long distance relationship, and to just give it time to sort itself out spoke volumes of his desperation and heartache. The only trouble with my decision is that I feel the same way. I wish it were possible for me to stay, but I have a big problem with not recognizing myself or the decisions I'm making.

I have a big problem risking the entire future I've earned for someone I didn't know three months ago. I have a big problem making these kinds of adult decisions at all.

I sigh and pull the plane ticket out of my back pocket as the line inches forward. I look at the details of my flight information. I'm going to have a few hours to think, time that I've really been craving. So why is it that right now it feels more like time to cry and despair than it does time to get a grip?

"Identification, miss," a uniformed guard says to me after I hand him my ticket. I pull my New York driver's license out of my pocket, struck by the drastic difference in my location right now. For the last two and a half months, this place has been home. Florida has been home, but I'm going home to Boston with my New York identification. Where is it that I really belong?

The trouble is, I don't know. That's why I'm leaving here. I have to eliminate at least one option before I go crazy.

The guard smiles at me politely as he hands my ticket and driver's license back to me and points me on through the metal detectors.

Going forward is the only option for me now. How do I do that? I guess just one step at a time. This is where the story ends. I have to find a new beginning. The ground beneath me gives a little as I walk up the ramp into the plane, the walkway slightly unsteady. I step onto the plane and the solidity underneath me is a small comfort. Maybe someday I'll be back on solid ground, but that day is not today. I look back over my shoulder, the view of everything I've known this summer blocked by the curving ramp, the airport, the miles between there and here. It's all blocked, the good and the bad. Is this where the story ends? I sigh and settle into my assigned seat. I know you hate this. I know I hate this.

I slowly unzip the backpack in my lap and remove the brown leather book and a pen before I close the bag and place it under the seat in front of me.

I inhale the new smell of leather and close my eyes. This journal looks like the one I left on your boat, except all the pages are blank. I don't know what I'll write, I don't know what will happen next that I have to debate.

The words spill out of my pen before I think about them.

_I never expected you._

The tears are not solicited. I can't help them and I certainly can't control them. I can't see through them, either. I'm just going to have to let them pass. I set the pen down and tuck my face into my hands.

There has to be more that that statement. I grab the pen, still not knowing how it's going to come out.

The period turns into a comma and the pen writes, almost of its own accord, and when I look at what's there I know I will be unable to write anything more true.

_I never expected you, but I loved you. I love you still._

I look out the airplane window and away from the book; the book will be another letter to him, another part of my story that is totally wrapped around him. How will it end? How will it begin?

I don't know. I'm no closer to know than I was before I came here. I'm right back at the beginning.

It's been two and a half months, almost a whole summer. I thought it would change me, I thought I would feel more like a grown-up or more like part of a group. I'm not sure why. I feel exactly the same way I've always felt: lost and lonely. It's hard to explain, but I know you understand. You're the closest person in the world to me now, there is no changing that even if you're hundreds of miles away. You've always gotten it.

_I love you still_.

Somehow, I know you always will.


End file.
